


Common Blood

by Zedrobber



Category: Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Blood, Crossover, Drug Abuse, Dubious Consent, Incest, M/M, Porn With Plot, Violence, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-02-14 20:04:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 23,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2201298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zedrobber/pseuds/Zedrobber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uh, I wrote a crossover. With Thor and Repo. Uh. The niche for this is going to be like 6 people and a potato. ANYWAY, it's Thorki, Graverobber! Thor and Largo! Loki. With a vague plot. And porn. Probably lots of porn. <br/>Uh. Sorry? Thank you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Nights like these were what made his job less appealing. Perhaps those hopeful, wide eyed kids who so often told him they wanted to be “just like him!” would reconsider if they saw him right now.

 

Soaked up to his knees in thick, sloppy mud, rain slamming down onto his back, rivulets working their way under his collar and down his spine as he worked; his thick gloves coated in dirt that was more water than earth, clawing into the ground until his fingertips caught on the corner of a rotting, soft wooden casket. Heaving a breath out, he hauled at the wood, dragging it to the surface and feeling his heels sinking deeper into the mud, his heavy boots more of a hindrance than protection in this kind of weather. It came relatively easily; the thick, sucking vacuum of mud giving up its prize, and the Graverobber huffed out a satisfied breath. He broke the top from the casket easily, grimacing as the stench of the corpse was fully open to the air, and got to work. First, he removed his gloves, not wanting to contaminate his equipment. Then he unrolled his tools; the syringe and the vials, the scalpels and spare needles, and, humming, he rocked back onto his heels, crouching beside the corpse almost happily now that the heavy work was done. The rain continued to hammer down all around him, drowning out all sounds but his own breathing and the low vibration of his tuneless  hum as he lifted his syringe, carefully inserting into the nasal cavity and _pushing_ \- and with a pop, he felt it slide home.

“Ha!”

Grinning- a guileless, sunny smile at odds with his grim task- the Graverobber pulled on the syringe and watched in silent appreciation as the vial began to fill with the glowing blue liquid, his own blue eyes seeming to reflect the glow like hazy fire.

Zydrate. He loathed it and loved it in equal measure, hating the way it turned people- good, often likeable people- into zombies, mindless and slow; but unable to ignore the money which he so desperately needed.

Many times, he had thought about leaving the job, finding a more …legal… line of work and becoming someone with honour and perhaps even a little integrity- but then he inevitably realised that if it wasn’t _him_ selling this, it would be someone else- someone who wouldn’t see his customers safely home, who wouldn’t stand guard over the unconscious forms of the badly addicted as they passed out in his alley, who wouldn’t patch people up when their surgery went wrong or when they got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time by Rotti Largo and his cronies. That always made him stay- just for a little while longer, of course- and then there were people to help and bullet wounds to fix and he forgot all about the idea for another few months while he was elbow deep in blood and the grateful, hollowed out eyes of his customers followed him through the alleys at night.

 

-

 

That was it for tonight. He had had enough. Grunting, he put his tools away into his satchel; tucking those precious vials of Zydrate carefully into an inner pocket of his coat, he stood and began the squelching walk back home through the graveyard- home being an abandoned old mausoleum which had long been stripped of bodies for the lucrative Zydrate industry and was now the driest place the Graverobber had ever managed to shack up in. The rain only came in through the back corner; and he collected it in a large metal drum for use as drinking water and a shockingly cold shower.

 

Several times on the way home, he paused to glace around, unnerved by a persistent feeling of being watched and unable to pinpoint precisely where it came from because of the rain still beating down. _Still,_ he thought as he stomped into his home, _at least my clothes are wet instead of muddy now._ The thought made him chuckle to himself, low and deep, and he shook his head like a wet dog in a vain attempt to dry it, his long blonde hair dark and plastered to his face. The fire he had left blazing was still hot and bright in the garbage can, and he stripped quickly, hanging his wet clothes over a strategically positioned tree branch to dry. His knee length boots were the worst; pulling them off felt like he was trying to peel a very cold, very wet layer of his own skin off, the buckles stiff and unwieldy under his fingers. Finally he grew impatient, yanking at them and tossing them into the corner with a growl before standing up and feeling the unpleasant wetness of his feet on the concrete floor. “I suppose installing a carpet would look a little ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, shuffling closer to the fire to dry off. He examined himself as always for any new bruises or injuries, scars from many years of hard work and dangerous occupation criss-crossing his huge, muscular body, in various stages of healing. He liked to look large and strong; it intimidated those who would try to rob him of his product and helped him to stand out amongst his customers, his height adding to his overall rather terrifying presence- like a warrior from another time, out of place amongst the harsh neon glow of this crumbling city, his eyes warm and expressive and his hair left long and natural. That natural appearance, perhaps more than anything, scared the shit out of people- unaltered and debt-free in a world of artificial everything; of dyes and wigs and surgeries advanced enough to make you look like literally anyone you wanted- a world where a punctured lung or an overworked liver were no more of a death sentence than a slight head cold- assuming, of course, you could pay.

 

This Graverobber- who had so often been given the nickname “Thor” that it had stuck, at least to his clients- was something exotic and mysterious to the poor souls unfortunate enough to get themselves hooked on Z. He assumed the name was a reference to the old mythological god; having never studied religion- or most things, to be fair- he did not fully understand it, but from what he had gathered, Thor had been strong and fierce, and had something to do with lightning or storms which made sense seeing as many of his clients called Zydrate “blue lightning” for the shock-then-numb effect it had on them. Either way he adopted it, knowing that “Graverobber” was hardly a name one could use in conversation without attracting some bizarre looks. He even grew to like it over the years, quietly and without fuss beginning to think of it as something of his own, something _his_ in a way he had never really had anything, including a name.  Similarly, the few possessions he owned were as precious to him as rare jewels to others; his tools, always gleaming and ready; his long red leather coat, deep and rich in colour as blood; and his collection of treasures that he kept carefully hidden in a cardboard box- things that reminded him of his old life, or things that he found and liked. A smooth textured pebble, deep blue and worn with constant touch, reassuring and soft. A raven’s skull that he always meant to turn into another necklace for his collection and never had, finding its empty-socketed glare unnerving. A bright green glass bottle, long emptied but fascinating to him, drawing him in like a magpie.  Junk to anyone else, but rare and beautiful to his eyes. He often spent hours touching them, wondering as to their significance.

 

Tonight though, he had no time for these treasures. Exhausted and cold, he grabbed his blanket and settled down on his bed- a filthy old mattress that he had won in a fight- to try and sleep the ache from his bones. _I’m getting old,_ he mused. _Perhaps too old for this business, soon._ The thought was almost comforting.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The following night was bitterly cold, but at least it was dry. Thor’s clothes were also dry, if stiff as boards. _There is nothing in this world as uncomfortable as hard jeans_ , he had mused to himself as he had pulled on the offending item; once black and now bordering on a grey as grim as thunderclouds in a storm, several shades darker than his shirt which _was_ supposed to be grey but looked merely neglected.

The alley was almost empty when the Graverobber arrived, the only noise the hissing crackle of an old pink neon sign that declared “no rooms”- rather redundantly, as this alley had been abandoned by all businesses but his own for many years. Thor knew it wouldn’t stay this quiet; it rarely took more than an hour for the word of his arrival to spread across the city, closely followed by the sound of shuffling feet and whispered conversations as his customers appeared out of seemingly nowhere, peering around corners and clambering carefully down fire escapes to find him like a horde of zombies in a shitty old film.

He perched on the edge of a dumpster, cleaning his Zydrate gun in preparation for the crowds, and attempted to rub the stiffness from his jeans in mild irritation. It didn’t take long before he heard the first coughs; the hesitant, clattering steps on the concrete behind him, and the low hum of conversation. He slid back to the ground and turned with his most charming, gentle smile at the ready. “Good evening, ladies.”

These were two regulars; a gangly, shivering woman with blue hair and mismatched eyes, and a tall, stately looking lady who might once have been striking, before the addiction. He knew them only by sight; no names were ever given in this business, and he would never have asked- but he felt glad to see them alive anyway. Too few people became regulars.

“Thor,” the blue haired one smiled, relaxing into his warm presence. “I-I’m glad you’re here.”

Thor nodded graciously, feeling a momentary surge of arrogance that he should be so needed which he quickly squashed in disgust. “C’mere.” He gave them what they needed, on the house; a quick shot from his gun, a spark, and sweet, brief oblivion, before he sent them on their way carefully, warning them to be safe and to take the back roads.

 

 He barely had time to wipe his gun before the next crowd was on him, and then the next, until he was surrounded by a throng of desperate souls all waiting for the next hit of their poison. Their upturned faces were blank and almost innocent, pain etched in lines on every one of them, and Thor could not help but feel horrified at his own part in their torture even as he worked quickly to ease their pain one after the other. The crowd thickened, became loud and dangerous, a swirling mob of addicts all clamouring for his attention in hoarse voices and clutching hands. Thor kept control only by his huge stature and by the deceptively calming tone to his loud, growling voice as he repeatedly warned to stay back, telling them he would see each of them in turn much faster if they allowed him to work. He became focused on the next customer, his head lowered and his hands moving quickly to refill his gun, to take coin, to find the perfect spot on each addict efficiently and quietly. A few words for each customer; a reassuring smile or pat on the shoulder and a gentle admonishment to get home safely, to get off the streets tonight- even, occasionally, coins pressed back into the palm of the addict, Thor’s huge hands closing around theirs and squeezing briefly. He took no notice of the state of the crowd, barely even registering that it was thinning around him as the night went on until finally, exhausted, he raised his head as the last of his customers staggered from him and into the night.

 _Well, almost the last,_ the Graverobber amended with a frown as he scanned the alley. There was one more figure in the shadows, silhouetted against that ridiculous “no rooms” sign. Tall, slender but strong looking, Thor couldn’t tell if it was male or female and didn’t much mind either way.

“Hey, you looking for me?” he called out quietly, his voice carrying in the sudden silence of the alley. The figure turned, whip-fast. Male, but almost ethereally pretty in this smoky light. Long black hair, pale skin, delicate cheekbones- for a long moment Thor failed to recognise him. Then, in one swift sinking of his stomach, he did. _Oh, shit-_

Loki Largo, one of the sons of Rotti and potential heir to Geneco. This could not be good. They didn’t stoop to the level of street Zydrate unless shit with their father was bad; and if it was bad for them, the street peddlers bore the brunt of their anger. Thor stood warily, straightening his shoulders and folding his arms thoughtfully. He didn’t want to make any sudden moves; the children of Rotti were known for quick tempers and quicker knives, and Thor had no intention of being on the front page of the newspaper tomorrow morning.

“Can I help you?” he asked instead, his voice carefully nonchalant. Loki stepped into the light of the neon sign properly, illuminating him in a weird pink glow. His eyes were dark, his face heavily shadowed in the sickly light, but Thor could see a small, wicked curve to his lip as he moved forward towards the Graverobber.  He looked deceptively strong; lean and compact and seemingly permanently tense like a spring. His clothes, however, left a lot to be desired- unless his intended look was somewhere between rent boy and cheap goth; a top that was more a decoration than functional, see through black fishnet and barely held up on his shoulders, black leather pants that Thor suspected had to be sprayed on in the morning, and heavy lace up boots that would have looked more at home on the Graverobber.

 

“Oh, I’m sure you can,” Loki said finally, his voice a low, teasing purr that set Thor’s teeth on edge and raised the hair on his arms, screaming _danger_. “Assuming, of course, that you are in fact a Graverobber and not the idiot you appear?”

Thor bristled, knowing he was being played but unable to not rise to it. “You have interesting manners for someone who requires a service, Largo.” For some reason, Loki found this funny, a dry, low chuckle escaping him as he moved even closer, now almost toe to toe with the Graverobber and still moving, circling like a predator sizing up its next meal.

Thor did not enjoy being the prey in this scenario, and raised his chin arrogantly, his hands curling into fists.

 _Green. His eyes are really green,_ Thor’s mind told him helpfully, also supplying him with the knowledge that Loki smelled _amazing;_ sort of spicy and exotic like a warm foreign country that the Graverobber had never visited, and why the hell was he still so damned close? Thor’s lip curled in a silent snarl, his arm going out automatically to push Loki back out of his personal space, but somehow his fingertips brushed only air as Loki was on the other side, maddeningly calm and still giving him that almost-smirk.

“My my, you are slow,” Loki tutted, his head tilting like a magpie spotting a shiny pebble as he noticed the vials of Z slung across Thor’s hip. “I could have killed you by now.”

“I would enjoy seeing you make any attempt on my life,” snorted the Graverobber. “You are a fool if you think I cannot defend myself.”

“Oh, I’m _sure_ you can, what with all those muscles and everything,” Loki grinned with barely a hint of a laugh. “However I do prefer my dealers alive. Mostly. So be a good boy and give me my hit.”

“Pay me.”

“Oh, how _rude_. Do you have any idea who you’re speaking to?”

“A Largo brat,” Thor ground out. “And a spoiled one, at that. Step away from me.”

Loki smiled. “Oh, does that manly voice of yours usually work? Make people quiver and swoon? Because I have to tell you, it sounds to me more like you’ve been smoking fifty a day-“

“Pay me or leave, Largo. I’m not here to argue with you.”

From this close, Thor could see Loki’s newest scars; twin wounds on his collarbones, neatly stitched, and he wondered at how much of this man was real at all. He couldn’t see any of the tell-tale marks around his neck and ears that would indicate facial surgery; that at least seemed to be all him. His neck was impossibly long, and pale in that distracting, beautiful way that made the Graverobber want to throttle him, bite him and kiss him all at the same time, just to mark his skin, to taste it under his tongue. He shook the thought from his mind, irritated at himself, and flicked his eyes up to meet Loki’s, lit up with amusement and arrogance. He wondered how much of his thoughts could be read on his face, and scowled in a deliberate attempt to erase them. “What is it to be then, Largo.”

“I do have a name,” Loki sniffed, stepping back a little to run a hand through his artfully tousled hair in a practiced, elegant move. “Perhaps you could even get your stupid tongue around it.”

“I do apologise; which one are you again? Luigi?” Thor couldn’t help the sly grin that spread across his face as Loki spluttered, indignant.

 “How dare you, you- scum-“

“My mistake! Pavi, I do beg your pardon.” The Graverobber sketched a mocking little bow to Loki, who looked even more appalled.  “It’s so easy to get you mixed up, would you not agree?”

“I should kill you-you insolent- worthless- _bastard-“_

“And then you would never get that hit. So. Pay me?”

Muttering, Loki snarled at the floor.

“What was that? You’ll have to forgive me, I don’t speak brat.”

“I said I have no money.”

“Then I’m afraid we’re done. Come back if you want to behave like an adult next time.”

“Surely we can come to an arrangement…?” and suddenly Loki was back in Thor’s personal space, pressing him back against the wall of the alley with more strength than the Graverobber would have assumed, his whole body pushed tight against Thor’s. “You know, I’m sure I can find another way to pay…”

Thor bit back a yelp as Loki’s hand began to insinuate itself under the waist of his jeans, insistent and warm. He was almost about to let it happen, too, his body beginning to go pliant at the attention, before his brain caught up and unhelpfully reminded him that he didn’t do sexual favours for payment- _and,_ more importantly, this was a Largo and it would be a _bad idea._ With a heartfelt groan of both annoyance and disappointment, he shoved at Loki, hard enough to send him stumbling back a few steps. “Get lost.”

Loki kept his head down, only moving his eyes up to glance at Thor before he shrugged and turned to leave, his arrogant walk of earlier only appearing as he moved away down the alley and out of sight. _Clearly not used to being rejected,_ the Graverobber snorted, ignoring the nagging worry that he had seen genuine hurt in the Largo’s eyes. He also ignored the part of him that worried about where Loki would go to get his fix now.

_Not my concern._


	3. Chapter 3

It was a few days before Loki showed up again, and the Graverobber had almost been able to put him to the back of his mind. Almost.

Regardless of the doubtful truth in that, Thor was _not_ thinking about Loki as he worked his way through another crowd, three nights later. It was mostly regulars, and Thor was in a good mood, so he chatted a little longer with some of them, checking that they were eating and giving more allowance for late payments than he had done in some time. It was a warm, humid night, the kind that usually broke with thunder, for the second night in a row without relief; and Thor was hoping to get done before he was drenched.

Glancing up at the end of the crowd, his heart stuttered briefly as he saw Loki there again, leaning far too casually against a fire escape to have been there long.

Tonight he was wearing a green top that was slashed in enough places that it was barely considered a shirt any more, and those damned leather pants again- though the Graverobber suspected they were a different pair, not thinking for one second that Loki would repeat an outfit. His eyes were rimmed with messy black eyeliner, smudged and smoky. Thor swallowed thickly, caught somewhere between _damn, he’s hot_ and _dear lord he looks like a rent boy_ \- _and a cheap one at that._ Heaving in a deep breath, Thor feigned nonchalance, wiping at his gun so that he didn’t have to look at Loki. “Largo.”

“How discourteous of you. You were in _such_ a good mood earlier, too.”

“I had paying customers then. What do you want this time, Loki?”

The lithe man was already stalking him, his stride graceful and cat-like – but also dangerous, in a way that Thor found distressingly arousing. Soon there was nothing between them but inches, and the Graverobber was forced to meet Loki’s eyes.

“I want my hit,” Loki smiled as though they were old friends. He raised one hand to gently run his fingers across Thor’s jawline, and Thor made the effort not to either flinch back or lean in. It was difficult.

“Money?”

“I don’t need money.” The hand on his jaw slid down, softly; and then it had a vice-like grip on Thor’s throat and he was being shoved back into the shadows of the alley wall, gasping for breath he couldn’t quite take in and scrabbling at the brick behind him. Loki’s body was hard against his, all lean muscle and wiry strength, and his lips were on Thor’s neck, not-quite biting in a completely delicious way that had Thor whining even as he struggled internally as to whether to shove Loki away. Loki’s other hand was wandering again, down between their bodies and under the waist of Thor’s jeans, before wrapping firmly around his – _oh fuck, hard-_ cock and squeezing almost painfully. Thor groaned, the sound strangled and hoarse, and he felt Loki smirk against his neck before pulling back. “What’s the matter, Graverobber? Suddenly realise you like boys?”

“Don’t- don’t flatter yourself-“ Thor growled between his teeth. “- you wouldn’t be the first.”

Loki looked delighted at this information, twisting his hand artfully to stroke up the length of Thor’s cock. “Really? You look so _manly_ ,” he grinned, his eyes dark and unreadable. “But I think you should get used to the idea that I will be your last.”

 _Is he saying he’s going to kill me?_ Thor struggled to shake the fog of lust from his brain and concentrate, narrowing his eyes at Loki and preparing to beat the shit out of him if he was planning anything. But Loki was all innocence, his face a breath from Thor’s own, and Thor frowned, confused, which earned a low laugh.

“When Largos want something, they usually get it,” Loki clarified, leaning in to Thor’s ear and purring his next words. “And I’ve decided I want you.” And he squeezed a little tighter on the Graverobber’s throat, his hand warm and insistent on Thor’s cock, and Thor came, shuddering uncontrollably and having to brace himself against the wall just to stay on his feet like a teenager discovering orgasms for the first time.

“Fuck-“ he choked out, bright pinpricks of light exploding behind his eyes as he struggled to take in enough oxygen for the roar he needed to let out. Just when he thought he might pass out, Loki let go and stepped back, patting Thor on his chest before turning to saunter off.

“Didn’t you want a hit?” the Graverobber asked vaguely, rubbing his neck.

“Check your vials,” Loki almost sang back, and sure enough one was missing from Thor’s holster when he lowered his hand automatically to check.

“And I want you to think about the fact that you just let a man less than half your size stick his hand down your pants for drugs without even trying to fight him off. Goodnight, _Thor.”_

 _How does he-_ Thor wondered briefly, before realising that of course Loki had been skulking around like some mangy alley cat for fuck knows how long- he was bound to  have heard his customers use the nickname.

 

Sore, sticky and tired, Thor turned for home, not altogether sure what had just happened. The night refused to break; the air hot and stifling, and the Graverobber was almost ready to be convinced that he had hallucinated the whole thing except for the fact that his jeans were sticky and drying to his skin and he was one vial down.

 

\---

 

**Can I just say thank you to everyone who has given me reason to continue this, your comments are brilliant :) and HERE are the illustrations for this fic so far--- http://enemiesbrotherslovers.tumblr.com/post/96222624863/all-the-things-ive-done-for-my-repo-thor**


	4. Chapter 4

The morning came, the sky sickly yellow and still swelteringly hot, the storm still looming ahead. Thor was exhausted, his sleep restless and broken with half remembered nightmares. _The heat,_ he assumed, shrugging to himself as he forced his eyes to open with a pained grunt.  He felt sweaty, his muscles aching and tight as he stood, stretching painfully, and moved to the barrel of rainwater that was his makeshift shower, tap, and sink all in one.

It was _freezing_ and perfect, the cold, clear water sending a painful jolt right the way through Thor’s body as he plunged his face into it, then his hands, bringing it out in huge, churning handfuls to wash the grime from his body.  He shuddered deliciously, gasping out breaths in hard bursts as he scrubbed himself hard, using his one, precious piece of soap carefully.  It was smooth and round as a stone, hoarded away in his treasure box for safekeeping, and it smelled of honey and vanilla still; faintly, but still beautiful to Thor in a world that had smelled of corpses for as long as he could remember. Finally he scrubbed at his hair, dunking his head to rinse and coming up gasping and spluttering and almost laughing.

 _That’s better._ He did feel instantly more alive, his muscles refreshed and his head clearer than it had been in days.

 _Suppose I should scrub these jeans too,_ he sighed, eyeing the pile of clothes on the concrete.  Shaking his head like a dog, he got to work.

 

Later that night, the sky swollen and bruised, the Graverobber went back to his real work. The air felt thick and heavy and expectant, Thor feeling somehow tense in line with the weather.

His customers were also tense; arguing and shoving amongst themselves, pushing to get to the front, forcing Thor to raise his voice angrily several times and send small groups of people scattering with the growling roar of his irritation. “Just give me some space,” he repeated again and again, scowling uncharacteristically throughout most of his transactions. Blue Hair and Stately were some of the few who he afforded his sunny smile, glad to see them still together and alive and –best of all tonight- polite. He gave them their hit on the house, sending them off with a gentle pat on the shoulder and a murmured word of caution about the patrol two blocks down.

 

He could feel Loki’s eyes on him as heavily as the incoming storm long before his crowd had dispersed. He didn’t even need to look up, knowing without a doubt that the Largo boy would be under that “no vacancies” sign, smirking insolently at him and outlined in weird neon glow.

It was no surprise to him then that barely before his last customer had staggered off, he was pushed backwards against the wall _again_. This time, though, he was ready, and he grabbed Loki roughly by the throat and turned them, slamming the other man hard against the brick with an audible thud. Loki grimaced, and then laughed hoarsely, seemingly delighted by this turn of events, and Thor growled.

“What do you want _this_ time, Largo?”

“My hit,” Loki replied, calmly despite the fact that his back was pressed so hard against the alleyway that he could feel the grain of the brick digging into his shoulder blades.

“Yeah? Well this time, you’re gonna pay,” Thor snarled. “I’ve had enough of you, you wretched, irritating creature.” He pushed harder against Loki, relishing the feel of that strong, lean body writhing under his and remembering the night before with a barely suppressed groan. “I’m generally a calm man, Largo brat. But you seem intent on annoying me, and you should be warned that I am not incapable of causing some very painful damage.”

“Oh, is that a promise?” Loki grinned, pushing his hips forward obscenely. “I do hope it is. I would hate you to have not taken the hint yet.”

“The hint?”

“You are a stupid oaf, aren’t you?” He would say no more about it, though, and Thor was left frustrated and confused again, torn between punching the little shit in the face and kissing him- and that was even more confusing, considering all of their previous interaction had been insults and borderline sexual assault.  He settled for growling instead, his face close enough to feel Loki’s breath on his cheek, and tightening his grip on the other man’s throat, grinning viciously at the pained choking noise he made as he struggled for breath. His hand was huge on Loki’s neck, the smaller man’s skin soft under his calloused fingers, and he briefly imagined what it would feel like to twist his arm and snap that beautiful throat; how much pressure, _exactly_ , it would take.

Loki seemed to pick up on some of his thoughts, his eyes wide and his pupils blown black in what Thor assumed to be fear, his fingers grabbing at the Graverobber’s coat and pulling, shoving, anything to try and dislodge the immovable object that was Thor.  In retaliation, Thor shoved his knee between Loki’s legs in silent threat- and found that the Largo boy was hard as all hell. _Guess that’s not fear then._

It took him a moment to gather himself, the spike of arousal surging through him at the feel of that hard cock pressed against him overwhelming. Then he grinned again, tightly, pushing his knee forwards just enough to get Loki groaning, and leaned in to hiss into his ear. “Oh, you _are_ a sick little boy, aren’t you?”

This only served to make Loki whine, his hips bucking against Thor erratically. “Shut – shut up,” he ground out, turning his head away.

Thor had no intention of letting the kid get away with it that easily- he was hard himself, confused, aroused and still irrationally angry over what he had allowed to happen last night. Perhaps it would be a mistake to push this any further. It most likely would be; the Graverobber knowing from past experience how _many_ things were in fact a terrible idea. But the Largo boy was lean and strong against him, his breath hard and warm against Thor’s cheek, and he was _so_ beautiful. Thor could just scare him up a little, get him wound up and then leave, right? No harm done, and the brat would be out of his hair for good.

“This what you want?” he said quietly, decision made; he kept his voice rough and edged with just a hint of threat. “You like being pressed against walls with a stranger, you like the thought that you just might end up dead like this someday, your cock hard and your throat cut?”

Loki writhed under him, pushing himself back against the wall but succeeding only in rubbing his cock harder against Thor’s knee, still wedged between his thighs. “Get off me, you stupid brute.”

“You don’t seem to want that,” the Graverobber shrugged. “Judging by this.” He released Loki’s throat, lowering his hand to the straining bulge in the Largo boy’s leather pants and squeezing none too gently. Loki let out a strangled whine that went straight to Thor’s own cock, painfully hard in his jeans, and he swallowed thickly, his eyes suddenly captivated by the obscene way Loki’s lips fell open as he moaned, pink against his pale skin. His eyes were half closed, days-old eyeliner smudged around them carelessly, and Thor felt his breath hitch painfully in his chest, suddenly reminded of something he couldn’t quite grasp, like groping for a door in the fog. A feeling; a memory perhaps, of flashing green eyes and laughter- and happiness. It was almost sickening in its intensity, and Thor struggled to recall it properly for a long moment before giving up, exasperated and shaken.  He returned his thoughts to Loki, realising a little too late that his traitorous hand had snaked under the waist of Loki’s pants and was palming at his cock, the Largo pushing his hips deliriously into Thor’s hand, one arm snaked around the back of the Graverobber’s neck with his fingers twined hard into his hair. “Fuck,” Thor murmured, ready to push the boy away and run, but Loki latched himself onto him even tighter, wrapping one leg around the back of Thor’s knee and barely even pausing in his thrusts against the Graverobber’s hand around his aching erection. His face was open, beautiful in its ecstasy and so _young_ to Thor, and the only thing the Graverobber could think to do was to kiss him, awkward and hard. Teeth clashed, Loki not expecting it, and then the Largo was kissing him back, fiercely and savagely for all his innocent looks, the hand in Thor’s hair tight and insistent as he rutted against the Graverobber, his breath coming hard in short, desperate pants into Thor’s mouth. Finally, he came, almost silently, biting down hard on Thor’s lip. Thor couldn’t help the groan that escaped him at the feel of Loki’s hot seed spilling across his fingers, and the Largo chuckled softly, smug and boneless as he pulled away, caressing the back of Thor’s neck before he pushed his way out of the Graverobber’s  grip, his eyes dark and his mouth quirked in a thoroughly maddening smirk.

 

“Thanks for the hit,” Loki said, trying very hard to not sound breathless as he sauntered away into the darkness, leaving Thor standing in an alley once again with his hand drying sticky and his cock achingly, desperately hard. He barely even noticed that his lip was bleeding.

It was only later, his own hand wrapped around his cock and Loki’s name on his lips as he came across his stomach, shuddering, that he understood two things.

Loki knew something he didn’t; and, Thor was completely, irrevocably _fucked_.

 

 

\--

 

**I am so sorry for the delay, folks- I was on holiday with no internet access. Thanks for sticking with it.**


	5. Chapter 5

5

 

The storm still hadn’t arrived the next day, the sky low and slate-grey tinged with that same jaundiced glow. Thor grimaced at it, knowing the weather couldn’t hold much longer and hoping it wouldn’t choose to pour on him while he was harvesting. He took a moment to think of his customers, hoping that they would manage to find shelter before the storm- it looked to be dangerous, and addicts on the street would be vulnerable to the elements, immune systems already low.

But still. There was work to be done. Thor rolled his powerful shoulders, grunting, and began again, digging his way through the mud until his gloves were caked in earth and sweat beaded on his forehead. The prize was always worth it; every time he pulled on his syringe and was rewarded with the sudden _pop_ followed by a rush of dazzling blue, he released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, pleasure flooding his body. It was so lovely to look at, a welcome distraction from the desiccated corpse he had dragged it from, and he took great care in handling it and transferring it to a fresh vial each time.

The corpses, he re-buried as gently as he could, marking each headstone with a chalk Z to remember he had harvested there already.

 

He was working on his third corpse when he felt eyes on him. The unpleasant slithering up his spine was unnervingly familiar; a perplexing mix of fear and arousal which he was coming to know a little more than he wished to.

_Loki?_

He turned to look, but saw nothing- no insolent boy leaning against the stones, no shadowed figure lurking like a bad horror villain. Huffing out a breath, he returned to work, frowning.

Just as he drew the syringe back out of the nasal cavity of his current unfortunate corpse, a soft, smug voice behind him nearly made him drop everything and run.

“So _that’s_ how you get it.”

It was with a great force of will that Thor didn’t actually turn with his syringe in hand and stab the Largo brat; that and the thought of how much wasted Zydrate that would be, anyway. He settled for swearing loudly and eloquently, his heart pounding.

“You little _shit,”_ he managed finally once his breathing had calmed. “I could have killed you and you’d have deserved it for that-“

“Oh, do calm down,” Loki said with a decidedly fake pout. “No harm done.”

The echo of his own thoughts the night before made him remember what he had done, and a hot, uncomfortable flush spread across his face as he raised his head to meet Loki’s gaze.

 He was stood above the Graverobber, far too close, his head tilted at an angle that made him look like a bird and his hands on his hips. Thor sighed and stood, not liking the position he was in, and brushed himself off as nonchalantly as he could muster. “What do you want, anyway- and how the hell did you find me, Largo?”

“My name isn’t Largo anymore,” Loki smiled, sing-song. “I changed it.”

“To what?” Thor asked dumbly, not even sure why he cared.

“Sweet. It’s my stage name.”

The Graverobber blinked, stunned into silence for a moment, and then a huge roar of laughter burst out of him; the kind of uncontrollable laugh that makes you bend double, wincing with pain and unable to stop. Thor could hardly breathe, his hand on his knees and tears in his eyes, and still the laughter came. Finally, he gasped out between sobs of mirth, “Sweet? What the fuck made you decide that was a good idea?”

“Shut up,” Loki scowled, his hands balled into fists. “I needed a stage name.”

“And you had to choose that one?” Thor took in huge lungfuls of air, forcing himself to calm down, but every time he glanced at the affronted look on Loki’s face, he dissolved into giggles again.

“I said shut up, scum,” Loki snarled, all teeth and fury, and he shoved hard at Thor’s chest, sending the huge man staggering back against a headstone, taken aback and suddenly angry, like a bull with a red flag being waved at it. Loki didn’t give him a chance to recover, hurling himself at Thor with fists flailing and teeth bared, somehow finding all the most vulnerable parts of the Graverobber with unnerving accuracy. Thor had the advantage; his massive bulk and sheer strength was more than a match for the lean muscles of Loki, and conscious of this unfair match, Thor did his best to simply deflect the punches and kicks rained on him rather than doing any real damage.

“Stop, Loki,” he grunted after a particularly vicious kick to his stomach. Loki ignored him, pushing him back again and punching him in the face, surprisingly hard.

“I said shut up! Who are you to laugh anyway? You don’t even know your real name!”

“How on earth do you know that-“

“It’s obvious,” Loki spat, hesitating for a bare second before slamming his fist into Thor’s face again. Thor had had enough. Spitting blood, he heaved himself forward and grabbed Loki by the back of his neck, pushing him bodily against a waist-high monument and pressing down hard until Loki was bent over it, his face against the rough stone lid. Kicking his legs apart with one foot, Thor leaned over Loki until his lips were almost at the smaller man’s ear.

“Now we can part ways amicably, Largo, or we can end this painfully. I do not wish to hurt you, but you are making it very difficult for us to get along.”

“We – we seemed to get along just fine last night,” Loki managed to hiss, pushing back against Thor’s crotch with an obscene wriggle. “I remember.”

“Stop it.” Thor pressed his hand harder against Loki’s neck, reminding him who was in charge. Well, supposedly, anyway- Loki seemed to take it as an invitation to spread his legs wider and moan, his breath hitching.  Thor growled, feeling his cock getting hard against Loki’s backside despite his better judgement.  

“You will regret this,” the Graverobber warned, trying in vain to control his arousal and anger.

“Oh, I doubt it,” Loki purred, glancing back over his shoulder at Thor with a decidedly wicked gleam in his eyes. “Shall we find out?”

Once, Thor had been in control of his life. That seemed a long time ago now, his self-control and his long dormant aggression shattering into a thousand jagged pieces. He was growling viciously as he pulled back just enough to tear at Loki’s pants, shoving them down to his ankles without care. He didn’t bother pulling his jeans down; just unzipping them enough to free his huge, painfully hard cock. He grabbed at Loki’s narrow hips, his fingers leaving bruises on the pale skin and drawing a low moan from the Largo boy that did nothing but spur him on to greater savagery, dragging those beautiful hips back against him, digging his nails into that unmarked flesh, leaning forward to shove two fingers into Loki’s open mouth.

“Suck.”

Loki obliged, mainly because he was unable to do much else, pinned under the heavy, muscular weight of Thor. Only when his fingers were slick and spit-shiny did the Graverobber pull them back, barely hesitating before pushing one, then both fingers inside the writhing boy. Loki laid his forehead against the cool stone, letting out a long, low moan that made Thor impossibly harder, the last traces of doubt and indecision long gone from his mind to be replaced with nothing but sheer animal lust.

 With a savage sneer, Thor pushed his fingers in deeper, twisting them brutally and relishing the whine from Loki, his slender fingers scrabbling for purchase on the stone monument underneath him and arching his back in a silent plea for more.

The Graverobber, however, was nothing if not patient, and he used his free hand to press firmly down on the small of Loki’s back, keeping him still while he opened the boy up thoroughly, enjoying the torturous slowness and the breathy little noises the Largo boy was making.

Finally Thor was satisfied, and he removed his fingers slowly, smiling a little to himself, viciously, as Loki keened, trying to push himself back onto them to no avail. He said nothing as he spat into his hand, slicking up his huge cock as well as he could. Loki stilled suddenly, his whole body tensing, shivering with anticipation as he looked back over his shoulder. His eyes were dark, his breath coming in short, harsh pants, and the Graverobber was gratified to see the sheen of fear in those eyes, too; well hidden, but lurking under the arrogance and lust. Pulling his lips back from his teeth in a primal, animal snarl, Thor grabbed at Loki’s hip with one hand hard enough to make the boy wince in surprise and pain, keeping him steady as he guided his cock inside. It was clearly too much, too soon for Loki, who wailed and thrashed, kept in place only by Thor’s calloused hands firm on his hips, unrelenting and immovable. Finally he stilled again, his body heaving with hiccupping sobs, and the Graverobber began to thrust in earnest, revelling in the tight heat of the boy’s body around him. Loki was silent for a long few moments, but Thor barely even noticed, too caught up in chasing his own pleasure to care. Eventually though, the Largo boy let out a huge sigh of relief and relaxed visibly, Thor kneading roughly at his hips in approval  as he began to fuck him harder, slamming his cock into Loki mercilessly as the boy finally started to moan, low, guttural sounds ripped from his chest that drove the Graverobber to even more brutal thrusts. Loki steadied himself against the stone, pushing himself back against Thor, meeting his savage thrusts-

And then the storm broke, and thunder crashed around them, so close it shook the ground and rattled through their bones. Thor could almost feel the electricity in the air; could almost see it shimmer and crackle as lightning split the sky above them and the smell of ozone began to overwhelm the heavy, oppressive heat of the night. The rain began; huge, heavy sheets that drenched both of the men within seconds, Thor laughing and delighting in the cool, clean-smelling rain and spurred on to even greater savagery by the power of the storm. He grabbed a fistful of Loki’s wet hair, pulling his head back painfully as he continued to fuck him, and Loki screamed in exquisite pleasure and pain, his own lust heightened by the rolling thunder and the scent of danger all around. He risked a look back at Thor and was almost undone; the huge man was almost part of the storm itself, rain-soaked and _glorious_ in it, his eyes sparking the colour of lightning and just as dangerous, rivulets of water streaking down his muscles, pooling briefly in the hollows of his neck. He looked as though he was made of lightning and thunder, a natural phenomenon made human, and for one second Loki was genuinely terrified that he could drown under all that power.

He was even more terrified that he wanted to.

Thunder crashed again, Thor roaring out his climax along with it, spilling his seed deep inside Loki who whined, disappointed briefly that he had been ignored. But then Thor was pulling him up against his chest, reaching round with one arm to wrap strong fingers around Loki’s own aching cock and Loki was boneless in his hands, Thor’s teeth pressed against the back of Loki’s neck like an animal pinning its mate as the Graverobber worked him to an almost silent, perfect orgasm, Loki snarling and open-mouthed as his come covered Thor’s fingers and his own stomach. Then the support was gone as Thor backed away, the rain cleaning his hand before he could even register the mess. Thor felt energised, refreshed; pretty much the opposite of how he usually felt after an orgasm. The air hummed with static, Thor feeling its potential thrumming through him. Loki was still gasping, holding himself up against the monument with shaky arms, and the Graverobber decided that it was probably the time to exit, his lust sated and his head beginning to clear. Guilt rushed in where arousal had been, and he saw the bruises on the Largo boy as marks of his loss of self-control.

_Shit oh shit-_

“S-something wrong, you giant oaf?” Loki was saying, standing unsteadily and attempting a smirk. Thor sneered half-heartedly, zipping up his jeans with sudden self-consciousness. “Get lost, kid.”

“Aww, what’s the matter? Worried I might be underage?”

The thought hadn’t actually crossed his mind, but now the Graverobber _was_ worried. Loki laughed, clearly seeing something on Thor’s face that amused him.

“Don’t worry, I’m not. Well, most of me, anyway. I’ve had a few improvements.”

“I guess you’ll be wanting this,” Thor said suddenly, wearily. Realisation hit him like a physical blow. Loki had goaded him into this for a hit. It had to be. What else would he be wanting? Thor tossed a vial at him, his fingers suddenly numb and all good feeling gone from his body. _Stupid. I’m so stupid._

Loki caught it deftly, his eyes flashing with something unreadable, and Thor turned to go.

He didn’t know what to think about the strange, sad look on Loki’s suddenly-young face as he left to go back home.


	6. Chapter 6

 

6

 

Thor didn’t see the Largo boy for days. Six days, to be precise. Not that he had been counting.

 _Just thinking about him all the damn time_. _Nothing weird about that._

He had noticed his absence; while working his crowd, while harvesting- had noticed the loss of the prickling on the back of his neck, had even started to miss that dark shadow under the pink neon glow of the street sign. Had missed the mischievous gleam in his green eyes, the laughing mockery in his crooked smile, the way his pale skin went blue and purple under his rough touches and the beautiful, desperate moans he made as he was being fucked to within an inch of his life.

He missed Loki when he came with his own hand wrapped around his cock, night after night, Loki’s face in his mind and his name on his lips. He was starting to wonder if it was madness, this obsession; it seemed unhealthy and strange, made his gut twist uncomfortably to think about it, and yet he was stuck, unable to shake the damned boy from his heart and mind. And still something about him was familiar; he couldn’t place it yet, hadn’t been able to since the first time he had been struck with the vague memory of something he was unable to see. It was disquieting.

 

Thor was in the habit of picking up old newspapers from dumpsters, trying to at least pretend to keep up with the city’s strange goings-on.  These days it was mostly just Geneco propaganda; the latest cast-off he had picked up screamed “ROTTI LARGO SAVES HOMELESS MOTHER WITH NEW LUNGS” and had a photo of a tired, crumpled woman with a glazed expression and a pained smile, two children in front of her. Thor knew that meant “saved until she defaults on the payment for said lungs” and that inevitably those children would be orphaned within the year. He tried hard to find room to be sad for them, and failed; it was awful, beyond comprehension almost- but it was also horribly normal in this city. He tried to remember the children’s faces, vowing to keep an eye out for them on the streets and to help them if he could. That was about all he could manage.

He flicked through the paper until he came to a page splashed with the Largo children’s grinning faces. Luigi; his face lined and scrunched up, perfectly betraying his rather violent, disgusting nature; Pavi, whose face wasn’t even his own thanks to his frankly bizarre habit of killing people to wear their faces on his- Thor struggled frequently with the appeal of that particular habit, especially when Pavi could have just had plastic surgery- and then-

Loki. In full colour; his lips curled up in that vaguely sarcastic way that was _almost_ a smile, seeming to stare right at the Graverobber. Thor grunted in annoyance at the sudden onslaught of _feelings_ that photo brought up. He read the article briefly, skimming through the dull parts. Nothing new, just praise of the Largo heirs and promotion of their various causes- he had to laugh at Loki’s “Zydrate Addicts Support Network” spiel considering the definite addiction to black market Z that boy had.

Flip the page again. And again. Finally something interesting. “WHO IS THE MYSTERIOUS 4TH HEIR?”

Thor scoffed. As if three of the spoiled brats weren’t enough. He read it anyway.

 

 _As rumours of a mysterious, as yet unidentified child of Rotti Largo continue to circulate, speculation grows as to the legitimacy of the unknown heir. At best they would be a half-sibling to the Largo children, as Mr Largo himself has confirmed that only three were born to him of his late wife in several interviews with this publication. This casts doubt on any claim the unknown heir may have on the business, should they come forward to be identified. We can speculate that the “lost child” would now be between 30 and 35 years old due to the dates and timing of his relationship with his late wife; considerably older than his youngest known child, Loki Sweet, at 21. They would likely have grown up in the city’s orphanage and may not know much about their origins, most probably growing up to do some menial work such as cleaning or garbage disposal. Whether Mr Largo acknowledged or visited the heir as a child is unknown; however they may have little memory of such a visit thanks to the common practice of administering the soothing drug_ Clarisol _to orphaned children before bed each night._ Clarisol _is scientifically proven to reduce bad dreams by dulling memories of recent events and is an invaluable tool to childcare workers around the city._

 

Thor stopped reading, internally groaning. Great. More people suddenly becoming interested in kids who had it tough enough as it was. He felt sorry for whoever that poor sap was. Growing up in a Geneco-funded orphanage was hard enough without being earmarked for paparazzi interference.

Weirdly, Thor remembered more about that damned drug than his own experiences in the orphanage. He remembered the pale blue of it, milky like a blind eye; the sharp, metallic tang of it on his tongue, numbing his lips for a moment as he was told to swallow by a nurse he couldn’t remember the face of, and then the weird, disorientating haze over his mind that made it feel like he was about to faint. Then off to bed, and dreamless sleep, for precisely 8 hours. It was frustrating to know nothing; to not recall the friends he had made by name or face but to _know_ they existed; to know somehow that _someone_ had visited him, had talked to him and paid for his education- such as it was. It was like his life had been a fast-fading dream for the first 18 years. 

Huffing in irritation, he dropped the newspaper into his fire and sat on his mattress to watch it burn. His box of treasures was there beside him, and he picked up the bottle almost absently, rolling it between his palms to enjoy the smoothness before holding it to the light of the fire. The flames flickered through the green glass, throwing emerald light onto his bare walls that danced and burned like—

Like Loki’s eyes.

 _Again? I’m doing this again?_  Thor grunted and put the bottle down, shoving the box away. This was getting ridiculous. It had been nearly a week. He really needed to not be this obsessed with a spoiled, rude, arrogant, good-for-nothing little brat who, likely as not, was only even showing an interest to get to the Zydrate.

_You know he looked hurt when you left him. This is your fault, he’s mad at you._

That was stupid. Loki had no right to be angry, he was the one being manipulative and downright _creepy_ , with that stare that seemed to know Thor far better than the Graverobber would have liked.

He was the one offering a fuck for his hit.

_Really?_

Ugh. Thor glanced out at the night sky, the moon beginning to peer over the tops of the desolate buildings surrounding the graveyard. Time to work.


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

It was a busy night; after the breaking of the storm, the air was clearer, and the smog of the city seemed more bearable for the moment. The Graverobber was hard at work, head down and crowd thronging around him. He was unusually quiet, though; his customers seemed to feel there was something wrong and in turn were quiet too, leaving Thor feeling somewhat strange as his clients lined up sensibly and didn’t shove or push their way in front. He was distracted, he knew it- but he just couldn’t shake the feeling of sadness, and of guilt, too- that it was his fault that Loki had disappeared. Loki’s expression when the Graverobber had tossed the vial to him- it had been horrible. Betrayal, shock, anger; emotions that Thor would not have guessed Loki even possessed, with his arrogant demeanour and his nonchalant, reckless behaviour.

 

That fuck, though. It had been the best Thor had ever had; rough, brutal and _real_ in a way he had never experienced, Loki’s body small and strong and yielding in all the right places.  The Graverobber suspected that he would begin to crave that body again, if he wasn’t already.

_Not just the body._

Thor grimaced, his hands working on autopilot as his thoughts wandered.

_You want more than that. You know you want to understand why his eyes remind you of memories you don’t possess, why he looks at you with such a bizarre mixture of curiosity and sorrow. You want to kiss him. Properly, slowly, not that mess of teeth like last time._

Wait, what?

He patted the last of his clients on the shoulder half-heartedly and muttered goodnight, watching them as they weaved their way home.

He almost missed the dark shadow underneath the neon sign; he’d spent the last six days imagining he’d seen Loki there, so he put the black smudge at the edge of his vision down to his brain playing tricks on him- right up until the point where it moved and solidified, Loki emerging into the pink glow with all the grace of a panther. Thor’s heart leapt and then stalled in terror as he wondered what the hell to even say. He hesitated for a long moment, unsure how you continued a conversation began a week and one wild fuck ago.

 

Loki stopped too; his eyes black-ringed with eyeliner again and his hair slicked back, glossy like raven feathers, his shirt so tight that Thor could see every breath the Largo boy took, even from this distance.

 

They stared for a painfully long moment. Finally, the Graverobber couldn’t take it anymore, raising his hand in an awkward half salute. Loki copied him, and started slinking across the alleyway to meet him, looking impossibly calm. They studiously avoided eye contact, Thor feeling his mouth go dry and his heartbeat pounding in his ears like the roar of the sea.

_How would you even know what that sounds like?_

Thor pulled up a vague, half recalled memory of a day trip to the beach once, with the orphanage. He had picked up the smooth pebble in his box there, had kept it because it reminded him at the time of the colour of someone’s eyes he thought he knew; someone calm and comforting and safe.

Someone nothing at all like Loki, who was glaring at him from dark eyes less than a metre away. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, his breathing hard and his mouth open in a silent snarl.

“What?” he asked accusingly, not even waiting for Thor to speak. “I wasn’t watching you.” With a savage motion of his hand, he shoved a full vial of Zydrate into Thor’s palm. “See? I didn’t even use your fucking drugs.”

 

Thor took the vial and squinted at it in confusion. It was definitely his; it had the distinctive leather-wrapped top that he used to identify his own stock. It glowed dully in the palm of his hand. Absently, he tucked it back into his pocket, muttering a thank you. Loki was still glaring at him. Thor realised he should probably say something, but his mind was drawing a blank. Just being able to _smell_ Loki again was making him almost dizzy; that spicy, warm scent overpowering and delicious. This close, he could see more scars on Loki’s shoulders, on his chest underneath the sheer material of his top. Thor could feel his breath, hot against his neck, could see the dangerous depths in those green eyes, like a cat about to strike. 

 _Fuck but he’s beautiful,_ Thor thought for at least the hundredth time since their first encounter.   _Why do I feel like I know him?_

Loki sagged eventually, his shoulders drooping and his breath leaving him in one huge sigh. “Are you going to say anything?”

“Where’ve you been?”

“Avoiding you, clearly, you oaf.”

“I figured that.”

“Well, well done you. Gold star. Do you even remember why?”

“I figured I fucked up somewhere.”

Loki shrugged, looking at the ground. Thor was feeling slightly freaked out; this was not the Loki he was used to seeing, and he didn’t know how to react when there wasn’t the buffer between them, the familiar back-and-forth of insults and sarcasm, comfortable and engaging. This was strange and unknown. Looking at him, Thor suddenly realised just how young he looked, so unsure of the world he pretended to own. An odd, powerful rush of protectiveness washed over him, fierce and almost angry in its intensity. He didn’t know where it came from, only that it was there, and this boy, this stupid, bratty, ridiculous boy-this was something he wanted desperately to keep safe.

 

He blinked, shaking his head to try and clear it, wondering what on earth was coming over him. Loki was frowning at him, his eyes squinty and his nose crinkled.  “What is it?”

“Nothing.” _Like I can just say “oh hey there I think I want to keep you safe”? Jeez._

“You looked like you were remembering something.”

Thor didn’t miss the hope in his voice with that statement, as much as Loki seemed to be trying to keep it neutral.

“I- I don’t really remember a lot, to be truthful,” he managed with a shrug. “It’s that stupid orphanage protocol- you know, that drug they-“

“Yeah. I know.” Too quickly. Loki flushed and shut his mouth with a snap. “I’ve read about it.”

“Do…do I know you?” There. The question was out. Thor immediately regretted it.

“Don’t be stupid. All I know is that you’re a giant freak with muscles the size of a cliff, and I’ve still got bruises to prove it.” But he couldn’t meet Thor’s eyes, and the smirk he plastered onto his face was half-hearted at best. “Besides, you wouldn’t remember even if you did.”

 

It started to drizzle, and Loki shivered, quickly soaking through to the skin. “But it doesn’t matter. Didn’t you read? They’re looking for my long lost sibling as we speak.” His smile was twisted, crooked and sad. “I’m sure people around the city will suddenly recall being related to me.”

“You lucky thing.” And yet he felt uneasy; Loki looked like he was waiting for something, and Thor couldn’t provide it. Still, he could do something.

“Do… do you want to come to my place and get dry? You’re soaking.”

“Do you have a shower?” Loki asked hopefully.

“Not exactly.”

“Bath?”

“Nope.”

“… _heating?_ ”

“In a way?”

“Whatever. Lead the way to your undoubtedly thrilling hovel.”


	8. Chapter 8

 

The fire was still burning in Thor’s mausoleum, the flames golden and almost inviting after the freezing rain that had only got worse as they walked. Thor shrugged his leather coat off straight away, pulling his gloves off too and tossing them to one side. He didn’t want to see Loki’s face; the derision and scorn he would surely heap upon him could wait. But there was no sound from the Largo boy, and so eventually the Graverobber did turn- and wished he hadn’t, catching a glimpse of fleeting pity on Loki’s face that was quickly hidden. The Largo brat stood shivering in his doorway, his hair dripping into his eyes and his shirt a useless rag. Thor sighed, unable to be angry at such a bedraggled creature, and beckoned him closer.

Loki shuffled across to the fire and started steaming almost immediately. Without asking or warning, the Graverobber grabbed at Loki’s shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it to one side. Loki stood passively, watching as Thor picked up his one blanket and wrapped it around the boy’s shoulders until he looked like a small, wet-haired burrito. His eyes were impossibly big, questioning and warm in the firelight, and the Graverobber didn’t know whether to be amused or worried at the lack of resistance. He looked like a child. Thor opened his last bottle of whiskey and took a long swallow, feeling the burn warming his throat, the pleasant tingle running all the way to his fingertips. Handing it over to Loki, he watched as the Largo boy sniffed it with a grimace before swallowing, his face wrinkling in disgust. The Graverobber couldn’t help but laugh, a short bark that had Loki raising one eyebrow in irritation as he handed the bottle back.

“Don’t laugh at me, scum.”

“Then don’t give me pity at how I live, _boy._ ”

“I-“

“I saw damn well.”

“Well, you should be pitied, living like—like a corpse, out here? It’s _weird_.”

“I am a Graverobber, in case you forgot. That’s already weird, as you so delightfully put it. Just because you’ve never sat that pretty little ass down on anything that wasn’t soft and probably covered in velvet doesn’t mean that 99% of this damn city doesn’t live in poverty.”

“You think my ass is pretty?”

“I’m so glad that _this_ is what you took from that.”

Loki shrugged, his hair now nearly dry and slightly curly at the ends.  “Doesn’t matter. Where the hell do you sit in this shithole?”

“I don’t. But you can sit on my bed, if your delicate sensibilities can manage it.”

Loki perched on the edge of the- admittedly kind of disgusting- mattress, still wrapped in the blanket.  “I would hardly call this a bed.”

“You’re welcome to leave any time you fucking want, you spoiled little brat.”

“I like it when you call me names. Reminds me of—“

“Of what?”

“Nothing. Doesn’t matter.”

“Listen here, you little shit-“ Thor knelt in front of Loki, pulling him closer by the blanket. “You need to stop this stupid game of yours and tell me where the hell I know you from and _why-“_ he stopped, choking back an unwanted sob of frustration- “why the hell I remember your eyes but not your face.”

“You are one of the most stupid people I’ve ever met, aren’t you?”

Growling, Thor shoved him back, Loki’s arm hitting the box of treasures next to the mattress. Instantly his attention seemed to be diverted, Loki picking up the box and opening it greedily, frowning in confusion and disappointment when it contained only junk. “What is this stuff?”

“Give it back,” Thor snapped, trying to pry the box from his fingers. “That’s mine.”

Loki pawed through the contents, then lifted out the bottle, holding it up to the light. He smiled at the dancing shadows it cast on the wall, turning it this way and that.

And Thor felt sick.

That green. It was the _exact_ shade of Loki’s eyes. Not even just similar. His stomach churned, his heartbeat rushing in his ears. “Oh, god.”

“Hmm?” Loki paused in his playing to glance up, and smirked. “Oh, thank fuck. It’s been rather tiresome, trying to jog your memory.”

“You- we _had sex_ -“

“I’m hoping it won’t stay in the past tense, really.”

“But-“

“Oh, suddenly you’re wondering about the morality? You are very, very dull.”

“You did visit me in the orphanage.”

“Me and my father both, you idiot- who the hell do you think put you there? Did you never stop to wonder why you weren’t shot on sight like all the other Graverobbers out there? Did it not cross your mind, tiny though it may be, to even _ask?_ ”

“I remember _nothing_!”

“Except my eyes, clearly,” Loki taunted, holding up the bottle. He rummaged a little more in the box and pulled out the raven skull. “And father’s tattoo.” A little more, and he picked up the pebble. He looked confused for a moment, and then a little sad. “And your mother’s eyes. They were this shade of blue. I bet you never even knew.”

“How do you even know?” Thor asked weakly, kneeling on the ground in front of Loki like a devoted worshipper. His head was reeling and he still felt sick.

“I saw a photograph. Rotti keeps them. He has one of you as well, I think the orphanage took it just before you left. Never would have guessed you would turn out so…muscular.”

“How old-“

“I’d have been about…ten, I think, when you left.”

“And you saw me often?” Now that he had asked, Thor was hungry, desperate to know more about the childhood he so barely remembered, eager to hear everything about himself that he only knew through hazy recollections and vague memories, clouded by that damned drug and his own ignorance. “Tell me!”

“We visited every week,” Loki shrugged. “We played together, we fought, you hit me, I ran away, then I hit you- the usual kid stuff. Sometimes Rotti took us places, once he bought you ice cream and you gave it to me because I dropped mine. You were dull even then, so predictable. You never really forgot who I was between visits, not at first. But when we got older, they upped the dose and you went…vague. So we visited less. Father seemed relieved.”

“My mother…”

“She wasn’t my mother. I don’t know her, I’m sorry.”

Thor nodded, almost relieved. He rocked back on his heels, overwhelmed and torn between being disgusted with himself and completely unsurprised. Loki sat quietly, his face unreadable. Eventually, he scooted closer, settling himself between Thor’s knees and staring into his face almost eerily. The Graverobber felt that rush of protectiveness again, but mingled with definite, desperate _need_ , and the mixture was so powerful he ached with it. Seeming to sense this, Loki smiled, a wolfish grin, and then leaned in to kiss him.

It was less awkward, and less desperate, than last time. Loki’s mouth was warm and pliant, Thor revelling in the taste of him even as he wondered what on earth he was doing.

_But hey, you’ve already shoved your dick in his ass, so what’s a kiss?_

He pulled back finally, uncertainty clearly written all over his face as Loki sighed dramatically and pulled an atrocious mockery of a pout.

“What’s the matter? No hello kisses for your baby brother?”


	9. Chapter 9

 

“I don’t really think brothers should-“

“I don’t give a shit what you think- you don’t do enough of it to have a valid opinion.”

“But-“

“If you hadn’t found out, would you have wanted to fuck me tonight?”

“I-“

“I’m serious. If I hadn’t just told you everything I know, would you have already thrown me across your mattress- ew, by the way- and fucked me?”

“Well- yes.”

Loki grinned. “So what’s stopping you?” His hair was almost dry now, gently curling over his shoulders in a disarming, youthful way, completely at odds with the slick, raven-feather style he seemed to favour.

“What’s stopping me is that I am your brother,” Thor reminded him gently, the word feeling strange and warm on his tongue. _Brother._ It seemed to explain the protectiveness- but not so much the desire that was even now thrumming through his body, Loki so close to him that he could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“I like that,” Loki said quietly, his eyes dark. “Say that again.”

“I am your brother?”

“Yes.” Frowning, Thor looked quizzically at the Largo boy, wondering why he was suddenly black-eyed and intense. It took him almost a full minute to process the conversation they were having.

“Oh.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“But-“

“Please don’t,” and Loki was almost pleading, his eyes wide and his hands trembling minutely. “Please just don’t say anything stupid.” He stood, unzipping his leather trousers and shoving them down, the wet leather clinging and chilled on his skin. Thor watched in mute arousal as Loki stretched, dropping the blanket and very obviously preening a little at Thor’s attention.

“You’re beautiful-“ he said before he could stop himself, and Loki scowled. “That counts as stupid. I’m not.”

“But you are!” He was almost gold in the firelight, his pale skin warm and inviting, the flames dancing across him like delicate fingers. Thor couldn’t recall ever being more in awe of a lover.

_He’s a lover now? Five minutes ago you found out he was your brother._

Loki rolled his eyes. “Shut up, _brother_ , and fuck me.”

  1. Thor felt a jolt of lust shoot down his spine, straight to his cock. _I’m pretty sure that word isn’t supposed to do that._



Almost on autopilot, Thor shrugged out of his shirt, kicking his boots into the corner of the room and standing awkwardly in front of Loki in only his jeans. Loki stared at him, challenging him silently with his eyes narrowed and his jaw set.  He hesitated there for a long moment, trying hard to not rake his eyes greedily over- over his little brother’s body, fuck- and failing, hungry to see more of the beautiful, lithe boy now that he was seeing him properly naked for the first time. He didn’t have an ounce of wasted flesh; seeming to be carved out of marble, so lean and strong he looked. Thor’s eyes flicked across the surgery scars adorning his body like war wounds, wondering why he would choose to change so much when he was clearly so beautiful already. His fingers ached to touch, to claim him again, and he found that the knowledge of their history did not diminish the want as he had assumed it would. 

Loki cleared his throat finally, and with his face flushing in embarrassment at being caught staring, Thor unzipped his jeans and stepped out of them, feeling weirdly exposed once he was as naked as Loki.  It was the younger man’s turn to stare now, and Thor allowed him to, knowing that if he was found wanting it would be humiliating at best. But he seemed intrigued, tracing the broad curve of Thor’s shoulders with one finger, running his hands over his chest with a hum of satisfaction, and then smiling wickedly as he wrapped one hand around Thor’s huge, painfully hard cock, his fingers not quite meeting. Thor groaned, his eyes half closing, and reached out to grab at Loki, steadying himself against the smaller man’s shoulder.

“You could help, you know,” Loki grunted, squeezing Thor’s cock briefly. Thor didn’t even hesitate, his mind too fogged by lust, reaching his free hand down to Loki’s own cock, more delicately tapered and curved than Thor’s. His fingers explored the skin, more gently than Loki would ever have guessed possible from so huge a man, and Loki shuddered, briefly closing his eyes and leaning his head heavily against Thor’s shoulder, his breath warm on his brother’s neck and his lips ghosting over the pulse point that thrummed just under Thor’s skin. “Fuck,” Loki hissed, Thor growling in response. He released Loki’s cock, the younger man whining for a moment before Thor grabbed at his narrow hips with both hands, pulling him hard against his body, their cocks sliding together. Loki moaned, wrapping his arms around Thor’s neck as if holding on for dear life, the Graverobber rocking his hips against his little brother’s.

It wasn’t enough though; Thor was desperate for _more_ , desperate to bury himself in the tight heat of Loki again, to take him and claim him as his own this time- and not to let him get away again. “Brother-“ he growled, his teeth sharp against Loki’s jaw, and Loki hummed in delight, digging his nails into Thor’s back. “Again.”

“Brother,” Thor repeated, and Loki squirmed deliciously, licking up Thor’s throat and almost purring his pleasure.

“Good boy,” the Largo boy said, smug and self-satisfied as a cat to have Thor at his bidding. Thor couldn’t decide if that was arousing or irritating, and settled for both, shoving Loki back with a snarl that was only half-serious, Loki chuckling darkly as he stumbled and hit the mattress full force, the old springs creaking painfully under his back. Thor was on him immediately, pinning Loki underneath his muscular body, one of his hands wrapping easily around both of Loki’s wrists to hold him in place. He kicked his little brother’s legs apart, pushing them until Loki was spread out beneath him, beautiful and debauched looking already. His cock was beautiful as it lay curved up towards his stomach, flushed and hard as Thor’s own, heavy and huge between his thighs. Loki writhed and arched, desperate for more friction, and the Graverobber held back, smirking faintly as he simply waited for his brother to admit defeat and beg for what he wanted, his free hand trailing far too gently over the soft skin at Loki’s hipbones. It didn’t take long before Loki was whining and bucking his hips, pleading almost incoherently for Thor to just _fuck_ him and stop teasing, _please_.

Thor smiled, leaning in to Loki’s ear. “Good boy, brother.” Loki huffed out a sharp breath, almost a laugh, even as his hips pushed up again in a futile attempt at gaining friction. “You bastard.”

“Must run in the family,” the Graverobber shrugged with a wolfish grin, leaning back and casting around for something to use as lube. Loki gritted his teeth and almost roared at him.

“For the love of all things will you _please_ just shove your cock in me?! There’s lube in one of my pockets.”

“Shut up,” Thor muttered, leaning across Loki’s body to reach for his pants and causing a moment of delicious friction between them that had Loki moaning, almost sobbing in frustration as Thor retrieved the small bottle and leaned back again. He wasted no more time, opening the top with his teeth and tipping it up, pouring the thick liquid liberally over his painfully hard, swollen cock. He threw the bottle behind them before slicking himself up thoroughly, pushing two sticky fingers inside Loki’s tight entrance without further warning. His brother bucked violently, his hands balling into fists under Thor’s grip, and the Graverobber spent only moments preparing him, roughly and hurriedly, ignoring Loki’s whines and choked sobs at the harsh treatment until his brother was pushing back onto Thor’s fingers instead, his back arched almost impossibly and his breathing hard and fast and his eyes wild and dark. “ _Now- please-“_ he choked out finally, and Thor let go of his wrists to grab at his hips, his nails digging in hard enough to bruise almost instantly as he pushed his huge cock into Loki savagely, impaling his little brother in one long thrust that left the younger man almost screaming, his eyes streaming even as he pushed down onto Thor with everything he had, his hands clawing at Thor’s back, nails sharp and painful and _wonderful_ , urging him deeper, harder against him until Thor was driving into Loki again and again, brutal and with every ounce of strength in him. Loki’s face was a blissful, heady mix of pain and ecstasy, his eyes black and his mouth open in a silent, vicious snarl. Thor reached out and grabbed a fistful of Loki’s hair, tangling his fingers into the slightly damp curls and tugging painfully; forcing Loki to meet his eyes, wanting his brother to know exactly who it was that was inside him. It had the desired effect, Loki groaning and locking his gaze with Thor’s, his nails digging deeper into the Graverobber’s back as if to reassure him that this was real.

 _Fuck, he’s so beautiful,_ Thor found himself thinking even as he ravaged his brother’s body. _He’s my brother and he’s mine, all mine forever now- never stop wanting him-_ and he scared himself with the fury and vehemence of his passion for this boy, this brat who he had barely met and yet shared so much with. _Including a father._

“Brother-“ Loki was gasping out between pained breaths. “Please-“ and Thor couldn’t repress the delighted, perverse shudder that skittered down his spine at that word and at having Loki so wanton and vocal under him, tight around his cock and warm under his hands. “Good boy,” he said approvingly, caressing the back of Loki’s neck and allowing his hand to trail down his brother’s body, slowing his thrusts enough to watch Loki arch and groan into the slower, deeper sensation.

Finally, he wrapped his calloused fingers around Loki’s aching cock, and the sigh of relief was beautiful, the smaller man’s eyes fluttering shut involuntarily.

“No. I want to see you come for me,” Thor snarled, tightening his grip painfully until Loki opened his eyes again, his gaze unfocused and glassy for a long moment before he realised what was expected of him and met Thor’s dangerous glare.

“Better. Now come for your brother, or you don’t come at all.” He squeezed Loki’s cock gently to prove a point, Loki pushing his hips up to meet Thor’s grasp, his cock still so achingly hard and desperate for release that it took only moments before he was shuddering and howling wordlessly, his seed spilling over Thor’s hand, hot and sticky, as Thor continued to fuck him in slow, deep thrusts.

Thor barely held it together long enough to watch Loki come for him, the expression on his brother’s face so beautiful, so fucking _hot_ that he had to breathe deeply to hold back for even a few moments longer. He came as he watched Loki spill his seed over his fingers, the knowledge that it was for _him_ alone too much to bear as he roared out his orgasm, his cock buried in his little brother.

 

Eventually, painfully, they disentangled themselves from each other, come drying tacky on their bodies and becoming uncomfortable. They barely spoke as they cleaned up, Thor handing his wash rag to Loki without comment and ignoring the muttered, “eww,” as Loki sniffed it before use.  The moment came, of course, when they _had_ to speak; facing each other and somehow more awkward than before the sex, when it was less complicated and yet less _right_.

 

“I guess I should go,” Loki said eventually, uncomfortable at still being naked now that it seemed to have passed.

“It’s still raining.”

“Yeah?” He peered out of the door, saw that it was indeed still pouring down, and sighed heavily. “Guess I can stay a little longer.”

His eyes looked suddenly distant to Thor, and although the Graverobber still had a thousand questions to ask, he knew it wasn’t the time. Instead he handed Loki the blanket and motioned to the mattress. “We should stay warm then.”

Loki cracked a smile, his eyes clearing as he turned to look at him. “I’m sure you have many inventive ways to do that, being a filthy vagrant and all…”

“Oh, I’m sure I can think of a few…”

 

 

 

**So sorry for the delay guys- been moving and then working and sharing a laptop with SapSorrow due to her not having one....sorry especially to prettypearlnecklace!**


	10. Chapter 10

They woke in a tangle of limbs and blankets, warmer than Thor had ever remembered being in this run down old mausoleum.  Thor woke first; sleepily blinking and trying to extricate himself from Loki, who had seemingly tied himself in knots around the Graverobber during the night. After muffled, half-asleep protests and a long, drawn out sigh from Loki, Thor managed to stagger to his feet so he could go piss outside. When he came back, the Largo brat was wrapped up in the blanket but at least sat up, his eyes half-lidded and his eyeliner smeared. “What’s for breakfast?” he asked immediately, deceptively cheery.

“Uh. Whiskey?” Thor scrubbed at his hair, embarrassed. “I don’t…really eat breakfast.”

Loki squinted. “Brother, you are a mess.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Call you brother, or tell you you’re a mess?”

“Either.”

Loki rose, regally, his chin tilted high and a magnanimous look on his face. “I will buy you breakfast.”

“Dressed like that?”

Loki scowled and dropped the blanket. “I had thought to get dressed first, but even if I didn’t it would just start a new fashion trend.”

Regardless, he got dressed, complaining constantly about his sore muscles and aching limbs. Thor thought better of reminding him exactly why he was sore, choosing to smirk quietly to himself instead as he dressed. Finally, they were ready, and Loki led the way out into the almost blinding daylight.

“Where’re we going?”

“Somewhere,” Loki hissed, “Where you won’t look like a complete tramp.”

That somewhere was a shitty little dive behind an old factory, long since abandoned. It was relatively empty, and the few people in there looked about as wealthy as the Graverobber himself. He squinted at Loki when they sat down in the corner.

“Why the hell would you come here?”

“Believe it or not, being constantly recognised and fawned over does get old _eventually,_ ” his brother replied with an exaggerated sigh. He ordered something called “the Big Eat” for them both from a bored, greasy looking waiter, and sat back in his chair to scrutinise Thor.

“So,” he said eventually, and Thor could have slapped him for the slow, drawling mockery in his voice, “I guess you’ll want to know everything we can dig up about your dear departed mother?”

“Do not speak of her like that!”

Loki waved a hand dismissively. “Sorry, sorry. I forget how precious you are over someone you barely met.” His tone held no malice though, and Thor said nothing more on the subject until the food was in front of them, steaming and greasy and _just_ what Thor hadn’t known he wanted. There were mushrooms swimming in their oil, beans, two fried eggs and two sausages- a luxury the Graverobber hadn’t managed for months- hash browns, tomatoes, and sweet Jesus, _bacon_ , as well as a side plate heaped with toast and butter. He tore into it before he’d even really registered it all, wolfing it down like a starving man while Loki looked at him in amused disgust as he picked at his own breakfast much more delicately- and, as he pointed out archly, with _cutlery_. Thor shrugged, sucking the juice off his fingers in a manner he hoped was seductive and suspected was horrifying.

 _This is good. Nearly distracting me from the fact that I’ve suddenly gained a brother and decided to keep fucking him._ The thought made him choke slightly on his bacon, his eyes watering as he glanced up at Loki. Swallowing thickly, he cleared his throat. “I would like to know everything I can about my mother; about everything-“

Loki’s nose wrinkled as he thought for a moment. “I’m sure we could break into my  -our- father’s office. He keeps his personal shit in there, and he’s stupid enough to not notice something missing.”

“I don’t know, Loki-“

“Well, there’s a surprise.”

“It seems dangerous.”

“You are aware that your entire _job_ is a walking death wish, yes? I can’t for the life of me see how one more suicide mission would be worse.”

He paused, his face unreadable and his eyes flashing. “Besides, I have no love lost for that man, and you are my brother, after all.”

Thor wasn’t sure that it was entirely _brotherly_ affection in the tone of Loki’s voice, but he let it go, suppressing the shudder that went down his spine in remembrance of last night. He wondered if Loki was not favoured by their father; he seemed to loathe him, his lip curling automatically with the mere mention of his name. Thor decided not to press it, instead shrugging. “If you think we can, then sure.”

“Of course we can,” Loki smirked. “I’m _rather brilliant_ at making mischief for him.”

The Graverobber suspected that was right, and couldn’t help smiling at the slender boy beside him as they stood, paid, and left. Loki’s eyes flashed with the prospect of being bad, and his walk was back to confident strut as Thor followed him through narrow alleys and winding streets until they reached Geneco Towers.

It was a massive, deliberately imposing building with bright lights and an obnoxious floodlit sign declaring it to be the best and only organ replacement centre in the world. Guards were posted outside the doors, and the Graverobber hesitated instinctively, hanging back and feeling a rush of panic at being seen out in the open like this. Loki, however, breezed past them with a charming, slightly wolfish smile and waved Thor on with a dismissive “Plus one guest.”

The guards didn’t even make eye contact, perhaps used to Loki bringing home lovers at all hours.

Still, Thor felt like he skulked past them, his shoulders hunched apologetically and his boots making a resounding thud on the clean marble tiles of the foyer, a smear of mud trailing him until Loki noticed and forced him to take them off, hissing in irritation. “Are you stupid? They’d follow that trail of mud from your gargantuan boots and find us red-handed with our hands all over the paperwork before we’d even found anything!”

Feeling very vulnerable, his bare feet making disconcertingly quiet slaps on the tiles, Thor followed with a contrite expression, his boots held up high in one hand. Loki led him through a maze of corridors, guards posted at each intersection who didn’t even bother to glance at Thor after Loki breezed past. _This could be helpful for our escape,_ the Graverobber thought, unable to stop planning a way out for one second. The building was hot and uncomfortable to him, the air stifling, and without a clear route out he was becoming a little on edge, trying to remember every turn and twist they took and feeling like he was horribly lost.

 

Finally, they took an elevator up to the top floor, where Loki beckoned him into an office furnished with dark, varnished wood and deep, rich reds. There were two taxidermy ravens on either side of the large, velvet and wooden chair. Thor had never been somewhere so opulent. It disgusted him a little.

Loki sauntered in, all swaying hips and casual arrogance, and began rifling through drawers with reckless abandon. His face was pale under the lamplight in the room, his eyeliner from the day before still smudged across his eyes and making them look shadowed and black.  Still, he looked beautiful and so comfortable surrounded by such finery, his lean form moving silently around on the plush carpet even as Thor’s feet squirmed in it.

“You going to help, you great brute, or you just going to stand there staring at the floor?”

“Sorry.”

“You can be sorry later, for now check that cabinet.”

Thor did so automatically, pulling out the first drawer and leafing through the papers without really knowing what he was looking for. He found his gaze drawn to Loki again and again, wondering how he came to be so hopelessly obsessed with this boy, this strange remnant of his past who had swaggered back into his present with all of the assurance of being welcomed with open arms. Who had _known,_ all along, that he was his brother- _half brother-_ and had still – well.

“Thor? You’re staring at me like a slack-jawed idiot.”

  1. “I…uh- what are we looking for?”



“Anything official looking with a woman’s name on it. Newsaper clippings. Photos that look incriminating. Use your imagination.”

“Yeah.”

“And put your tongue back in your head.”

“Shut up, Loki.”

 

Ten minutes passed in silence while they both rummaged, until they finally piled up their findings on the smooth, polished desk. Three photos, two newspaper articles and a love-letter.

“She was pretty,” Loki said, squinting at the photo. It showed Rotti Largo and a woman, smiling and close. Her hair was blonde and long, wild looking. But it was her eyes that jolted Thor; blue and calm and reassuring- blue like his own but muted, like the sky in summer rather than the storm.

_Like my pebble._

“Okay. Name, name…. Huh. Elinor Castor. Here.” Loki pushed over the love letter to Thor. It was fairly standard stuff- _My Darling Rotti_ and _I love you, I miss you-_ but it twisted Thor’s gut painfully to see his mother’s handwriting, swooping and elegant in a way his never would be. Clearly educated, her prose clear and precise. Thor turned his attention to the newspaper articles.

 

ROTTI LARGO DEVASTATED BY LOSS

 

Screamed the first. The second was even less subdued and therefore more interesting.

 

ROTTI LARGO LOSES LOVER, BABY, IN ILL-FATED PREGANCY

 

_A understandably distraught Rotti Largo today declined to comment on the loss of his lover, Elinor Castor, and of the baby that she was carrying. Miss Castor apparently went into labour prematurely following some unusual bleeding, and despite the best efforts of the doctors, lost too much blood and died during the labour after a massive haemorrhage. The child was reported to have also been lost during the delivery. Mr Largo issued a statement which thanked his supporters for their messages of concern and condolences; also releasing the name of his deceased son as Liam Castor in honour of his late fiancée._

“Liam? _Liam?_ And you _dared_ to mock my stage name?” Loki almost howled, covering his mouth at the last moment and biting on his palm to keep himself quiet. “I have never met a person who is less a Liam than you.”

“Thanks,” Thor scowled, trying the name out in his mind and finding it lacking in everything that the name he had carved out for himself had. Still, it was good to feel it slot into place, to hear that mental _click_ as events began to be clearer in the drugged haze of his childhood.

“Wonder why he said you were dead.”

“Probable because I was illegitimate,” the Graverobber shrugged.

“Or he just took one look at your ugly face and wanted to take it back.” Loki made a disgusted face and then started laughing again.

“I’m glad you find this amusing,” Thor sighed, turning back to pick up the photograph again and rubbing his thumb across the well-worn surface. “She looks nice.”

“I’m sorry, Liam.”

“Please don’t.” Loki finally stopped laughing long enough to look guilty.

“I’m sorry. I know this must be a shock.” The Graverobber glanced up at his brother, expecting another burst of laughter and finding only a carefully schooled mask of sympathy that was almost worse. The sharp angles of his cheekbones seemed even more severe in the lamplight, his face ethereally pale against the eyeliner. “Thanks,” Thor ventured, reaching out a hand to Loki tentatively and cupping his cheek briefly. Loki leaned into the touch, his eyes half-closing and suddenly dark as Thor ran his fingers across the soft skin of his face. 

Loki tensed, his eyes sliding to the elevator. “We gotta go.”

“What?”

“ _Now.”_  Pulling at Thor’s coat, Loki flicked his gaze around the room and groaned in frustration. “There’s no way out. We have to use the window.”

“You are shitting me.”

“I wish. C’mon.”

Loki sprinted for the large window, yanking it open and hoisting himself outside before turning to Thor and disappearing downwards. “Come _on,”_ Thor heard Loki hiss.

“I fucking hate you,” the Graverobber snarled back as he pulled his boots on and followed, pushing himself out onto the perilously small windowsill and trying to see where Loki had gone. The Largo boy was nimbly shuffling and clambering his way down the Tower, using ledges and windowsills and drainpipes as agile as a monkey. _Oh great. I’m going to die._

Thor pulled the window shut behind him and with a short prayer to every deity he could think of, he lowered himself to the next ledge, swearing under his breath with every movement and trying desperately to not look down.

He looked down, about half way, and immediately wished he hadn’t as the world seemed to swim dangerously, his grip on the drainpipe seeming suddenly insubstantial and slippery.

Panic rose in his throat, his heartbeat rushing through his ears as he imagined himself falling, hitting the concrete below and being no more like all of those corpses he harvested from.

And then it passed, the nausea leaving him and his vision returning to normal as he sucked in a long, trembling breath and began to climb down again, noticing Loki was already at the bottom and waiting for him. _Maybe he could catch me like a princess,_ he thought wildly, forcing back a hysterical giggle and continuing the descent. When his feet hit concrete, he almost lost his balance as his legs turned to jelly, but Loki was there, pushing and tugging at his clothes to get him to move faster, away from the tower and back to the graveyard and the relative safety of his mausoleum.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

As soon as they reached Thor’s dubious home, Loki was on edge, pacing and muttering to himself and scowling at the door as though he expected someone to burst in at any moment.

“Calm yourself, brother,” Thor tried several times, attempting to reassure Loki that no-one had followed them. He’d been careful, had taken the short-cuts and had watched their back, grateful to be on solid ground and in the open.

“You don’t _understand,”_ Loki growled, shooting a venomous glare at Thor. “We left everything on the fucking table like complete idiots. There’s no _way_ Rotti is stupid enough to not guess who it was in there, especially not when they ask the guards. We’re fucked.”

“Why is it a problem anyway?” Thor asked, shrugging. “So we wanted to find out who my mother was. It’s not like I’ve tried to take over the business or anything. Surely that’s your job.”

“You oaf. Firstly, my father- _our_ father- is dying. He’s been dying for years and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. It’s terminal, it’s spreading, and no amount of organ transplants can stop it. Trust me, he’s tried plenty of them. You think I’ve got scars, you should see him. Secondly, he’s been trying to decide which of us is going to succeed him- me, Luigi, or Pavi. Naturally I want it to be me, but my…indiscretions with Zydrate and their dealers seem to have put me at a disadvantage. He knows I’ve been seeing you. He just didn’t know who you were until now. Luigi kills people in a fit of rage, and Pavi likes to literally wear people’s faces- no, I’m not joking, don’t look at me like that- so I figured I was pretty high on the list. But he wants a Largo to carry on the name. Not an illegitimate bastard child who he _shoved into an orphanage to forget about_. If word gets out- and by that, he means _if you tell anyone-_ he is royally screwed. His reputation goes down the drain, everyone will want to see the poor innocent child of his who he claimed was dead, and there’s a new competitor for heir who doesn’t even share his family name. Boom, triple threat, everyone hates him, I don’t get to inherit and Pavi and Luigi are fucking pissed. He would not be best pleased if this gets out. So-“

“So he’ll want to eliminate the threat.”

“Exactly. He’s been able to keep you safe only because you had no idea who you were. Now I’ve fucked it up and you’re probably going to be shot on sight.” As an afterthought, Loki shrugged and added, “Sorry. I think I’m still on the top of the inheritance list though, for the moment. That’s a bonus, I guess.”

Then he shuddered painfully, and for the first time Thor noticed that he wasn’t just pale- he was deathly white and shaking, his arms folded across his chest like he was holding himself together.

“Loki?”

“I’m fine.”

“Loki, when was the last time you took Z?”

“I dunno. Few days ago? I’m fine, it’s fine.”

“You’re in withdrawal.”

“I don’t have _time_ to be in withdrawal, you idiot- we have to _move_ -“

The Graverobber sighed, his years of working with the addicts he knew as regulars forcing him to help. “Sit down.” He guided Loki to the mattress, wrapping him in a blanket. “We can do this two ways. One, I give you Z. Two, I get you through it without. Whatever you prefer.”

“We don’t have time for me to be coming off Zydrate right now, Thor. I’m serious. I know you don’t like the answer but I need  Z, now. We _have_ to get out of here.”

His eyes were huge in his pale face, dark and unfocused, his fingers white on the blanket as he clutched it to himself. A swell of tenderness crashed over the Graverobber, and he kneeled beside his brother with a heavy exhale, one hand reaching up to push a strand of Loki’s hair back from his face, his thumb catching gently at his bottom lip. “Loki.”

“Don’t look at me like that, Thor.”

“Like what?” He was genuinely puzzled; he hadn’t been attempting any sort of expression, but Loki looked terrified.

“Like you love me.”

It hadn’t actually occurred to Thor that it would scare Loki to be loved; clearly subconsciously he hadn’t wanted to bring it up, but he had assumed that was because of his own reluctance to admit it, not because he suspected Rotti Largo was disappointed in his son.

“I do.”

“Don’t _say_ that. You don’t- I’m not-“ and he was shaking again, and the certainty that he _did_ love Loki cemented itself in Thor’s heart permanently, unshakeably; as though it had always been there, waiting to be discovered.

“But I do, Loki- I love you-“

“Thor, shut the _fuck_ up and give me Z. I can’t-“ Loki’s hand pushed weakly at Thor’s fingers still clasped around his cheek, his eyes flat and unable to meet the Graverobber’s gaze. “Please.”

“No.”

“Fine, I’ll do it myself,” Loki snarled, uncoiling suddenly like a panther and diving for the Graverobber’s belt. Thor pushed himself back in time, grabbing Loki by the wrists and shoving him backwards onto the mattress as gently as he could. “Stop this madness.”

“I need it, Thor. I need it, I can’t feel-“

“You damn well _will_ feel, Loki. It’s not optional. You’re human, act like it. I love you. We have to move, and I’m not going to allow you to drown in your self-pity anymore, we’ll deal with your withdrawal on the way. Get the _fuck_ up. _Now.”_   He used his crowd-control voice, the terrifying, deep rumble that sounded like a lion’s roar, and Loki reacted before he even thought about it, getting to his feet almost meekly and following behind Thor as he stuck his head out of the door, checking the way was clear.

“I see flashlights.”

“Fuck- well, go the other direction, Thor,” Loki said like it was obvious, and Thor felt reassured that Loki was with him for a bit longer despite the shivering. He slipped outside, Loki close behind him, and slunk into the shadows under the large monuments in the opposite direction to the GeneCops. He could hear them shouting to each other, could hear the recorded announcement explaining that “Graverobbers would be shot on sight” and that “the city was under curfew after nightfall”. That announcement blared across the city all night every night from various points, and Thor had learned to drown it out effectively usually. Not tonight though, when he could practically feel the guns pointed at his back.

They made their way carefully to a maze of alleys that Thor led them down with confidence, knowing the best ways to avoid potential ambushes. Loki followed with minimal cursing, his hand gripping the back of Thor’s coat to help him keep up.

An hour later, and Thor stopped to rest. They had made good progress; he doubted that the patrol would catch them up now, not with the weird path he’d taken them down.

“We can rest,” he breathed to Loki, leaning against the wall and taking in huge lungfuls of air, smoggy though it was in the city. Loki dropped to his knees and vomited violently, shuddering all the while. Thor rubbed his back absently, wondering where it was exactly they should _go._ The city was an island, cut off from any mainland. No one had left for years, as far as he knew.

_Maybe Rotti will die before we have to think about it._

The thought was strange- the name Rotti was simultaneous with _father_ in his head but it was confusing and painful to think about. Would he really be so angry to know Thor had discovered who he was? Would he not want to meet his son?

That was stupid. His son who he’d disowned and left to become a Graverobber? Not a chance. But he had kept him safe on the streets for years, had at least helped him avoid death when so many others had been less lucky. Perhaps there was a way.

Not that Thor wanted to inherit the crumbling ruin of a business that Geneco was becoming. Nor did he want to offer people their lives in exchange for a fee that barely anyone could pay. It was sickening, wrong to even contemplate. He wouldn’t know where to begin changing it.

But Loki would. Loki would be able to help him make it fair, help him get people off the Repo Men’s lists with their organs intact.

“Loki, I think we have to go back.”

“You’re a stupid fucking idiot, Thor.”


	12. Chapter 12

They made their way back to the Tower cautiously; avoiding the patrols easily now that they were going the opposite direction. The guards were less accommodating this time; hauling them up to the elevator without preamble and dumping them in front of the desk of Rotti Largo himself.

He was definitely ill; the photos released to the press recently must have been very, very edited, as the man before them was sunken and hollow, his eyes shadowed and his breathing laboured. Still he sat haughtily, arrogance oozing from him, and Thor could see where Loki got it from. The photographs and newspaper articles were scattered on the desk in front of him, his hands clasped on top of them. Thor shuffled his feet, trying not to inhale the scent of sickness too deeply, while Loki smiled winningly, eyes bright with hatred. “Father. I brought you a present.”

“So I see.” Carefully, he smoothed a hand over his grey hair- clearly a wig, Thor could tell- and coughed. “What were you thinking, sneaking in here like a common criminal, Loki? After everything I’ve given you? Everything I’ve done for you? All the money I’ve spent on your surgeries over the years? It’s beneath you. You disgust me.”

He hadn’t even looked at Thor yet, and Loki was squirming under his disdain, wanting to pretend he didn’t care but unable to.

“We just- I just- wanted to find out the truth,” Thor stepped in, lifting his chin defiantly. “Seeing as I’ve been denied it for thirty-odd years.”

“You were denied nothing that you had earned, Liam-“ Rotti spat. “It was no great achievement of yours to kill your mother, no wondrous feat to be born a bastard child. I couldn’t stand to look at you then, I can’t now.”

“My name is not Liam,” the Graverobber said quietly. “It’s Thor.”

“Whatever you call yourself, you’re still a murderer. Get out of here, both of you- and don’t you think you’ll inherit Geneco, Loki. You are dead to me. I know what you’ve been doing with this…this _boy_. It is disgusting. You are _sick_ , and I will not stand for it.”

“No,” Thor shrugged. “Here’s the deal. You’re going to give us both Geneco.”

Rotti spluttered and coughed, a guard hurrying over to him to smack him soundly on the back and offer water. “What?! Out, before I shoot you both myself!” His jowls shook in indignation.

“He’s right,” Loki added, glancing at Thor curiously but going with it regardless. “We’re not leaving until you sign the papers.”

The elevator _dinged_ and Loki froze as the sound of laughter echoed into the office, followed by a high, affected Italian accent.

 _I’m guessing these are the brothers,_ Thor thought, uneasy at how still Loki had gone. He glanced behind to see two men swaggering into the office; one relatively normal looking, dark hair and dark eyes but with a maniacal gleam in his eyes- and the other- well, it sent Thor’s skin crawling even though he had read all about Pavi’s strange proclivities. It looked as though  he was wearing a mask over his face; except that it was an actual _face_ on his face, some poor dead girl who he’d skinned and now wore proudly, stapled to his skin. Thor fought the urge to dry heave, feeling the bacon threatening to return. Loki studiously ignored them as they stepped up to his sides, both of them taller and more muscular than him.

“What are you doing, brother?” Luigi sneered.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Pavi added, glaring at Thor and prodding him with one dainty finger. “It’s filthy.”

Thor shoved at Pavi none-too gently, scowling. “Get back, you freak.”

“I’ve heard you’re the freak,” Pavi smiled- a parody of a smile, the dead girl’s lips moving grotesquely. “Fucking your brother, yes?” His voice was annoying, high pitched and pretentious like the worst of bad fake accents. Thor grunted, not trusting himself to answer.  From this distance he could almost smell the dead skin.

Luigi was looming over Loki, whispering some kind of threat in his ear. Finally, Rotti had had enough, slamming his fist onto the polished wood of his desk with a resounding slap.

“Children! You are all despicable, all of you- not one of you is worthy of Geneco, not _one_ of you-you, you monster-“ he pointed accusingly at Pavi. “Look at you! And you, Luigi, you are a savage, an animal.”

Thor put on his most insolent drawl and blinked slowly at Rotti, trying to seem nonchalant. “Looks like we’re your best shot then, huh?”

“I would rather leave my business to a baby than to any of you.” This brought on another coughing fit, Rotti’s body heaving with the effort.  “You- are- all foul.”

All of his children watched dispassionately as their father coughed up blood, none of them offering aid.

Finally, Rotti managed to breathe again, glaring at them all as one, including Thor. “Leave me.”

But as Thor and Loki turned to go, he stopped them. “Not you two. Pavi, Luigi- _out.”_

They went, but not without wailing like spoiled children all the way to the elevator, their voices still audible once the doors shut. Rotti waited almost a full minute before speaking again.

“I assume,” he said finally, “that you would not ask for such a ridiculous thing unless you believe you have a trade of sorts.”

 _I have literally not fucking idea what I’m doing, actually,_ Thor thought desperately, trying to keep a stony expression.

“You’re dying,” he said flatly instead. “You need someone to take over, and you need to choose soon, by the look of it. I’m correct, yes?”

Rotti made a non-committal noise in his throat.

“Right. So, you have three choices- Pavi, who’s probably just going to kill your clients for their faces. Luigi, who if the papers are right, doesn’t seem to be able to _not_ stab everyone within a ten mile radius; and Loki, who other than a penchant for unnecessary surgery and a Zydrate addiction is looking good- he’s got an idea of the business, he knows how it works, and he’s clever. But you don’t trust him, you think he’s shallow and frivolous and will bankrupt you in a year.” This was a guess, but by the gleam in Rotti’s eyes, the Graverobber knew he’d hit the mark.

Loki looked as indignant as he could while shivering again, gritting his teeth to look less desperate.

Rotti waved a hand. _Continue._

“So here’s the thing. I’m about as non-frivolous as you can get. I’m tight-fisted with money and I know how addiction works. I have no real vices except a bit too much alcohol, I’ve got no unseemly reputation with the press, and it would look _wonderful_ for you and the company if you welcomed back the child you had thought lost- had thought _dead_ , in fact, as far as they are concerned.”

Rotti hadn’t spoken yet; Thor took this as a good sign. He glanced at Loki with sympathy; the boy was holding it together grimly by digging his nails into his own arms, his face deathly white.

“I’m well liked by the addicts, I’m known on the street for being fair,” Thor continued, knowing he was bragging by now but hoping it might work for him, “and I might be able to get Geneco back on its feet again.”

“So you want me to sign it over to you.”

“To both of us. I have no idea what running this business entails,” Thor shrugged. “Loki does.”

“I doubt that very much indeed. And Pavi? Luigi?”

“Tell them whatever you like, but make sure they leave us alone.”

“I don’t seem to get a lot from this bargain.”

“You get to look like a wonderful human being, a generous, loving father, a shrewd businessman, and you get to die rich and fat while we do the work. I’d say that’s more than most.”

It was fear that kept Thor talking; fear of the two armed guards who were inching closer by the minute, fear for Loki who was on the verge of collapse, and fear for the city itself, which surely couldn’t sustain itself the way things were- people unable to pay for organs, the Repo Men taking them back- people bleeding on the streets with no one to move them and no one to help, legal murderers sanctioned by Geneco itself to repossess its property.

 

“Leave,” Rotti said finally, after a long, drawn out pause.

“But-“

 _“I said GO!_ I haven’t decided if I’m going to have you killed or not yet. I’m sure you’ll find out my decision soon enough.”

In the elevator, Thor wondered if the erratic behaviour was part of Rotti’s illness, but Loki scowled at him. “He’s just always been like that.”

“Sounds fun.”

“You do like to understate things, don’t you, you great fool? Get me home. I need Zydrate.”

No sooner had they left the front doors of Geneco Tower though, than Loki crumpled into an unconscious heap at Thor’s feet. With a gentle sigh, the Graverobber scooped him up, worried instantly by how light he was, and carried him home warily, his skin prickling as if someone was watching him all the way back.

 

 

**Next one or the one after should be the last, I think folks! Thanks to the small but dedicated group of you who actually read this, it's much appreciated.**

 


	13. Chapter 13

Thor didn’t give Loki Zydrate; instead, he worried over him while Loki went through the withdrawal process, wrapping him in blankets or stripping him naked as he shivered and sweated, feeding him soup bought from the closest café and reheated over his fire, and sitting staring and worried while Loki railed and screamed, seeing things Thor couldn’t imagine.

 

Finally, it was done; Loki was small and quiet and still in the corner of the room, curled in on himself on the mattress, when Thor came in one morning a few days later.

“Are you okay?” Thor ventured carefully, unable to gauge his mood. Loki didn’t answer for a long moment, his eyes blank as he looked up at the Graverobber. His hair was lank and greasy, starting to curl again.

“Yeah,” he managed at last, with a weak smile. “I’m good.” His voice sounded harsh and underused, his throat still sore from the screaming.

Thor grinned broadly at him, the full force of his sunny smile overwhelming Loki, who burst into tears. Distressed, Thor started to go to him, until Loki began to laugh at the same time, his shoulders shaking and tears streaming down his face.

“Loki?”

Loki shook  his head, waving Thor off until he could breathe again, hiccupping but steady. “I’m okay.”

“You are perplexing,” Thor sighed, offering Loki the sandwich he’d just been out to get. Loki took it like a starved animal, ripping open the packaging and wolfing it down while Thor stared in fascination and slight disgust. “And you need a bath,” he added as an afterthought.

“I really do.” He paused for a second, unable to quite meet Thor’s gaze. “Thank you. For…everything. For not giving up on me.”

“I love you,” Thor shrugged as though it explained everything. Loki winced.

“Don’t start that again.”

“Sorry.” _I will tell you every single day until you believe me._

Painfully, Loki got to his feet, shaky and weak but steadier than he’d been in days.

“I hate that your water is always cold,” he grumbled as he stripped and began to wash, dunking his  head deep into the water barrel and coming up spluttering and gasping, dripping and shaking his hair across the room. Thor ducked and tossed him the soap.

 

Ten minutes later, a distinctly cleaner and altogether more in control Loki was sat on the edge of the mattress, attempting to tame his hair with the single comb Thor had. He still had dark bags under his eyes, and was paler than normal, but his eyes were sharp and focused again, his mouth not a thin line of pain anymore. Thor was tentatively hopeful.

“Have we heard anything yet?”

“Not yet. Only been a couple of days though.”

“Maybe the old bastard died.”

Thor chuckled softly and patted Loki’s back as he got to his feet. “You should get dressed. We’ll go and pay him a visit.”

“Why are you so interested in getting Geneco anyway?”

“You ever wanted to take the place down, make it fair, the way it should be?”

“Not really.”

“Loki. Think about it- people could have life-saving operations, could pay affordable rates without fear of being literally repossessed. We could do real _good_ for the world, brother- we could save so many people, make Geneco a company that people are proud to work for. We could help so many people-“

“That is so sickeningly sentimental I might vomit.”

“I don’t care. This is the right thing to do. Now come on, get dressed.”

“Uh.” Loki shuffled his feet. “My only clothes are really foul.”

“Shit.” Looking around in frustration, Thor finally found his pile of cleanish clothes and started sifting through them, sniffing each one until he found a clean black t shirt and some once-black jeans.

“Those jeans are going to be too big for me.”

“Tough shit. Find a belt.”

Loki sighed, picking up the clothes delicately and pulling on the shirt with a low groan of despair. “This smells of you.”

“I thought you liked how I smell?”

“Not when it’s _days old_.” He tugged the jeans up and could still stick most of his hand down them. “Uh. Belt?”

“Use mine,” Thor grumbled, unbuckling his and tossing it to Loki. “Seriously, you need to eat more.”

“Says the man who has whiskey for breakfast.”

 

They were stopped at the doors to the Tower by two shotgun-armed bodyguards, grim faced and taciturn. They were then bundled through the corridors and into the elevator without so much as a word.

“Hey, this isn’t the office-“ Loki said suddenly to one of the guards, watching the floor numbers light up. “It’s the medical wing.”

“Shut up.”

The smell of antiseptic washed over them like an almost physical wave as they stepped out into a blindingly white corridor, silent and imposing. Loki hung back warily as they were pushed through the halls and into a small and equally white room, where Rotti was in a bed- and hooked up to so many machines and drips that he looked more machine than man.

“He’s dying, then?” Loki asked a doctor who was looking harried and nervous as she studied paperwork.

She nodded but didn’t answer, glancing worriedly at Rotti as though she was worried he would hear her.

“Come here, Loki,” Rotti rasped, barely audible over the beeps of the machinery. Loki did, hesitantly, not bothering to take his father’s hand. “You too, Liam.”

“Not Liam,” Thor muttered, joining his little brother.

“You will answer to what I wish if you want to continue breathing,” Rotti said pleasantly, giving Thor a hard glance. “Especially if you wish to inherit anything.” His eyes were bloodshot and watery, his face pale.

 _So there’s a chance it’ll work,_ Thor thought to himself, holding his breath for a long, painful pause.

Loki looked indifferent, staring at his father impassively without speaking. Thor could tell there was a whole mess of emotion in his head, though; his eyebrows were slightly furrowed, his breathing a little too quick. Rotti gave a monstrous smile, his mouth bloody and wet.

“Yes, you heard correctly. I have decided that you should get what you are owed for murdering your mother.”

“I didn’t murder her,” Thor hissed viciously, finally sick of hearing it and despite knowing that Rotti was just using his deep-seated guilt against him. “I was barely _born_. I did nothing. You did more to kill her than I ever could have.” He watched Rotti’s smile widen painfully, a hacking cough bubbling from him.

“She didn’t approve of how I was running Geneco. Maybe I helped her along, maybe I didn’t.”

Loki grimaced as blood began to dribble from Rotti’s mouth, the doctor moving quickly to wipe it away.

“However,” he wheezed finally once the cough was finished, “I do have some conditions.”

“What are they?” Loki asked, unexpectedly taking an interest.

“No one knows what it is you two are doing with each other. The company does not need its reputation tarnished further with rumours of incest.”

“We’ll work a way around that.”

“Pavi, and Luigi- nothing. Give them nothing, they have earned it.”

Loki grinned viciously. “Done.”

“Liam is the sole beneficiary. I don’t care what he gives you; I just don’t want it on the books. And no more black market Zydrate for either of you. That includes selling it.”

Loki looked almost hurt at that last one, but shrugged anyway. “Sure. And I’m clean anyway.”

Rotti huffed out a disbelieving, mocking laugh, and turned to the doctor, who handed Thor the papers to the business and a copy of Rotti’s will smoothly, as though fully prepped. Thor took them numbly, barely glancing at the signature on the bottom declaring him the rightful owner of Geneco after Rotti Largo’s death.

“I did love your mother once, you know,” Rotti mused, eyeing Thor. “You look very much like her. I hated you for that. I still do.” He coughed again. “But no matter. Nothing matters now except Geneco continuing as it is.”

Thor tucked the papers away into his coat, and smiled humourlessly. “It won’t.”

Rotti said nothing, but his eyes bulged.

“We’re going to change everything,” Loki chimed in with a delighted, smug smirk. “It’s all coming down.”

“You wouldn’t dare-“

“Oh, we would,” the Graverobber said, folding his muscular arms across his chest decisively. “We’re going to make a difference, the way you could have done if you had not been blinded by greed and selfishness.”

“It won’t last. You two will be gagging for fame and the fortune within the year-“ he coughed again, painfully, blood spraying from his mouth and onto the sheets in wet droplets.

“And we shall have it,” Thor growled. “By being twice the company it was in your grip.”

“I should have killed you too,” Rotti gasped agonisingly. “You have your mother’s worthless ideals, her sentimental, useless _feelings_.”

Thor swallowed down the anger, rationally knowing he was being baited and refusing to rise to it- or to throttle an old, dying man, which is what he wanted to do. Taking a deep breath, he said only, “Perhaps if you had listened, you would not be lying alone and unwanted in an empty hospital room with a doctor who looks more scared you will survive than die.”

Rotti went purple in the face as he coughed again, choking on blood and bile, his skin beginning to mottle and turn ashen even as the doctor tried to intervene.

 

The machines all began to beep at the same time, a screeching whine that could only mean that Rotti Largo was dead.

And Thor was the new owner of Geneco.

 

 

**One more to go, folks - THANKS for all the support, kudos and encouragement with this, there's been times I've almost given up with it and you all helped me to carry on. :)**


	14. Chapter 14

Luigi and Pavi threatened and screamed, of course; Thor could hardly blame them despite their appalling habits- after all, a few days ago they’d been in line to a multi-million dollar business, and here they were now being told they were getting nothing by a bastard child they hadn’t known existed till that week. Loki managed to mollify them somewhat, however; offering them beautiful apartments in the city instead of living in Geneco Towers, and promising Pavi at least the opportunity of employment at Geneco again if he could just stop peeling people’s faces off. That, added to a monthly allowance from Thor, went a long way to stopping Luigi trying to stab them, and they left on relatively good terms.

The business was a shambles, though. The entire structure was a mess, debts and payments misfiled and Repo Men allowed to roam free without consequences. Thor left most of that to Loki, knowing that his brother was far more suited to paperwork than he was. Within the month, the Repo Men had been downsized, the most brutal had been delicately let go, and the rest had been retrained to not actually slice people open. The paperwork was back in order, and people had begun to realise that Geneco seemed to be cleaning its act up. Under Thor’s guidance, the business became fair, finally. People were given life-saving operations for free where possible, only paying for cosmetic changes and modifications deemed unnecessary.  Payments began coming in on time, leading Thor to wonder why the hell Rotti had decided to use hired assassins instead of just asking for the money.

It was a busy few months, which turned into nearly a year; and Thor and Loki were still studiously not discussing their relationship with the press.

Or each other, which was proving to be the most troublesome.

“Loki, stop it-“ Thor tried, painfully hard already and desperate to not let his brother know. “We need to sleep.”

It was winter and they were snuggled under the blankets beside a roaring fire in their shared apartments at the top of the Tower. Thor loved this fire; it was comforting in the way his old fire in the mausoleum had been.

Loki persisted, trailing his fingers over Thor’s arms delicately, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake that seemed to satisfy him immensely.  “We don’t have to be up for _hours_ , Thor,” he reminded the Graverobber with a smug smile, leaning in to kiss where his fingers had just been. “I think you should fuck your baby brother, don’t you? You’ll sleep _so_ much better.”

“I think you should shut your mouth,” Thor growled, but he was already rolling over onto his brother, pinning him to the mattress by his wrists and rutting against his hip ruthlessly.  Loki laughed, arching up against Thor and leaning up to bite softly at his brother’s throat.

“Maybe you should make me.”

“You’re disgusting,” Thor snarled with no malice, already leaning over to grab the lube that they kept on the cabinet. He slicked up his cock hurriedly with one hand, bracing himself on the other that was still wrapped around Loki’s wrists. Preparing Loki was almost as rushed; Loki gasping as Thor reached between them to push a finger inside him with no warning.

“Brute,” he hissed even as his hips bucked up. Thor merely grinned at him, adding a second finger and watching as Loki groaned, his eyes narrowing to black slits. 

“Not so eloquent now, are you?” the Graverobber chuckled, low in his throat.

“Shut _up,_ you- ah-“

He stopped, holding his breath, as Thor entered him roughly, impaling him fully on his huge cock before stilling.

“You _what_ , exactly?” Thor teased, leaning back over Loki fully and grabbing at his hair as he began to thrust brutally, his pace hard and fast and _delicious_ to Loki who loved the feeling of being so full of Thor’s cock even as he could hardly breathe between thrusts, his words lost to harsh gasping pants and half-hearted whimpers, his hips bucking uselessly under Thor; desperate for friction to his own aching cock which Thor mercilessly denied, he keened and pleaded and was ignored, Thor using him for his pleasure.

Finally he could take no more, choking out, “Please Thor, please let me come-“ and the Graverobber released his wrists with a condescending, “Good boy,” never relenting in his savage thrusts. “Touch yourself for me.”

Loki could do nothing but obey, wrapping his slender fingers around his own cock with an audible sigh of relief, coming within seconds as his brother pounded into him. Thor followed not long after, snarling Loki’s name almost furiously.

 

 Eventually, of course, they had to talk, much to Thor’s distress. He knew it was going to have to be him to begin, as well, so he started now, turning over to Loki and stroking a hand over his chest as Loki recovered. “Loki,” he started, and his brother groaned and tried to turn away, knowing that tone of voice all too well.

Thor grabbed at his shoulder to prevent him from leaving. “Stop, brother- please. We need to talk.”

“We really don’t.”

“Stop it.”

“Stop _what_ , exactly Thor? Stop fucking you or stop pretending everything is okay?”

“Stop ignoring the fact that we haven’t talked about – _this_ \- since we got control of Geneco. Stop fucking me like it’s your last night on Earth and then ignoring me through the day. Stop pretending that you’re okay with that. Just- just _talk_ to me, Loki. Brother. Please.”

“We can’t let anyone know, Thor. It was part of the conditions.”

“In case you forgot, he’s dead. We own Geneco. We own everything. He can’t stop us from beyond the grave.”

Loki cocked his head to one side. “True. Do you think it would matter?”

“I’m sick of caring.”

Loki nodded, decisively, and turned over to sleep. Irritatingly, he was snoring within minutes, leaving Thor staring up at the ceiling.

 

He said no more to Thor on the subject, but gradually, the Graverobber noticed his employees giving him strange looks in the corridors, giggling behind their hands as him and Loki passed them in the halls. His hard stare silenced them briefly, but the whispers only grew until he had to ask Loki what he had done.

“I planted the seeds of rumour,” Loki grinned back at him, all innocence and wide eyes. He smiled pleasantly at a young receptionist as they passed her, grinning as she scurried away, blushing.

“But why?”

“I wanted to see if it mattered to them.”

“And? You’ve made us the laughing stock of the Tower.”

“But they still work for us,” Loki pointed out with almost weary exasperation. His eyes flashed with amusement. “No one has walked out, no one has made threats, no one has even done more than imagine us both at it in the throes of passion. A thought which I can only assume is a delight to all who have it. We are beautiful, after all.”

Thor sighed. “You’re telling me people enjoy the thought of us- fucking?”

With a shrug, Loki looked around them. “I don’t see any disgust. Trust me, people do a lot worse than us in this city.”

It was true; there had been giggles, mutterings, sighs and lots of staring, but not a single sign of anyone actually upset with the revelation that their half-brother employers were fucking. Thor turned back to Loki with a raised eyebrow. “You decided to _spread rumours_ about us to test their loyalty? Only you, brother.”

“What? It worked, didn’t it?”

“I guess. But –“

“Oh, don’t tell me _. Oh Loki, we have to talk about our relationship. Loki we must discuss whether you have decided to be madly in love with me yet. Loki why don’t you ever kiss me. Blah blah blah I’m Thor and I’m so desperate for your love_.”

“Loki-“

“Thor, don’t. Just don’t. Isn’t it enough that we don’t have to hide whatever it is we have?”

“I love you.”

“Shut up.”

“I do.”

“Wonderful. Don’t you have accounts to be filing?”

“Stop that-“ and Thor grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing him into an unused office and slamming the door behind them. “Now just _stop.”_

He almost roared the last word, turning and pushing his brother hard against the door now that they were safely alone inside. Breathing hard, they stared at each other, Loki’s dark eyes almost black, but with lust or anger, the Graverobber couldn’t tell.

“You _cannot_ just keep avoiding me, brother,” Thor said roughly, half pleading, half fury. His muscles trembled in his effort to not just fuck some sense into Loki, his nails digging into the younger man’s shoulders. “This has been going on for too long. I love you, and I know- you _must_ feel something for me, otherwise why would you be with me?”

“Must I?” Loki asked carelessly. Thor could smell him, that familiar exotic mix of heady spices, his breath warm on the Graverobber’s cheek. He could feel the thrum of his pulse under his hands, could hear his shallow breathing as he leaned into his brother’s body. Thor growled, low in his throat, and the only thing he could think to do was kiss him, just like the only other time. This time, Loki was ready;  his mouth eager and hot against Thor’s, his tongue snaking into the Graverobber’s mouth with wicked practice, Thor groaning and pressing himself  closer. It occurred to him that Loki was kissing him back, was sliding his hands over Thor’s shoulders and pulling him in. It felt _amazing_ , like he’d been waiting his whole life, and he concentrated on trying to make Loki feel the full force of his love, everything he’d been holding back because his brother would not accept it pouring through him. Loki tasted like snow and charcoal; clean and crisp but with a smoky, dangerous undercurrent that Thor remembered all too well from their first kiss. His muscles had filled out in the months since Loki had been off Zydrate, his frame still lean but more powerful, more solid now than he had been. It suited him, Thor thought, his hands roaming under Loki’s shirt, digging his nails into his brother’s pale skin.

It wasn’t enough.

Thor pulled back, breathless. “I love you,” he insisted, locking his eyes with Loki.

For one long, heart-wrenching moment, Loki said nothing, a wry smirk twisting his mouth. The Graverobber snarled, furious with his callousness, and was about to leave him there half-dressed when Loki sighed in a long-suffering way and wrapped cool, slender fingers around the back of Thor’s neck, turning his head back to him.

“I love you too, you big dumb oaf,” he said, barely above a whisper, that smirk still playing around his lips. Only his eyes betrayed his uncertainty, and Thor said nothing, too overwhelmed by the admission to manage a reply.

Finally, Loki tilted his head and shrugged, unable to remain serious for long. “Is that it? Have you been struck dumb by the sheer eloquence of my words? Would you like to recite some poetry for me? Can we move the hell on now that you have my undying adoration, or would you like to talk about our feelings some more?”

Thor just smiled, the huge, sunny grin that even Loki couldn’t deny for long before sighing and melting against his brother with a chuckle. “You look so stupid when you smile like that.”

“Then I’ll look stupid. I don’t care.”

“Come on,” the smaller man said with a shove at Thor’s stomach. “Move. Let’s go wander the halls some more and smile at the employees. I love to make them uncomfortable.  Perhaps we can kiss and make them blush.”

“You are a horrible individual.”

“You love me.”

 "Don't start pulling that on me."

 

\--

 

**Well, that's it finished- my apologies for the horrendous delay and thank you so much to all who've read and commented, I appreciate every single one of you.**

**I'm working on a Hayffie fic right now, and to follow, a  Werewolf!Thor thorki fic and then and a SanSan fic at some point.**

 

 

 

 


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